Names Are Just Words
by SingleOrganicMachine
Summary: This is my best Death Note fanfiction, that spans from the night Mello blows up the Mafia base, November 10th, 2009, to January 26th, 2010. This is an in-depth, behind the scenes analysis of every move made by Mello and Matt, as told from Mello's POV. But don't worry, I never said it wasn't erotic.
1. Prologue

**+Prologue+**

**November 11, 2009**

**12:33 a.m.**

There was nothing but blackness for what seemed like hours, my head lost in the storm of colorless void, sinking, giving out. It would be an easy thing to let myself slip away. The weight of living really was a heavy burden on my shoulders-always had been. To die would be to relinquish pain and struggle forever. To die would be a banishing of my fights along with my sins. It might be better, after all-better for the world. Certainly at this moment it seemed too difficult a thing to battle against. Might as well just release my hold and slide downward…

But no-impossible. There was too much to get done, too much unfinished business, too many reasons to live. I was grasping for escape, finding that somewhere in the pitch-blackness of this hidden place I was making progress. I was surfacing, somehow, from a pit I couldn't remember falling into. My hands clawed ferociously, determined to find substance, determined to conquer this hole of nothingness. I had never once surrendered, never once bowed out to anyone or anything-and death sure as hell wouldn't be any exception. With a final heave of determination, I broke loose.

Pain.

I was instantly crushed from all sides with wrenching pain too fierce to describe. I was unsure, disoriented, misplaced, and in that haze I wondered briefly if this was what Hell felt like. Without a doubt that was where I'd end up, if I'd died. But no, in another instant a second wave of pain shot through, igniting my senses, bringing me back to this shell of flesh and bone. In a rush, I felt my fists clench and my voice break with the agony. Another instant and my ears were wracked with an onslaught of crackling noise and my nose contended with the stench of smoke and scorched flesh. Sight came last, blurred at first, hopeless, but then it focused little by little and I could see the blood seeping into the soil beneath my face. Yes, I had a face, and limbs, and they were functional. I'm here, now, in a material plane too wretched and twisted to be Heaven or Hell.

I'm alive.

In that moment I realized I had trouble breathing and so I worked to move, to free my lungs from whatever bound them. I pushed with my hands, feeling something solid thwart my efforts. I glanced over and noticed the obstruction around my face, tightening. I tore at it blindly, hearing a snap, and dropped the ruined gas mask I'd used to hide my identity on the ground before me. The Plexiglas was half-blackened and cracked open, and the rubber was partially melted. It had torn out some of my hair when I dislodged it, but I found I could breathe easier now, though my vision was still fuzzy.

I turned to look behind me and found a pair of hulking steel beams had caved in around me, forming a haphazard barrier against the piles of concrete debris surrounding me. They'd fallen in just such a way so I hadn't been crushed flat. I found my voice spark with a dry chuckle. Luck? No-No such thing. I'd chosen that room on purpose, that room on the second floor where Yagami followed me to. I knew that room had steel beams in the ceiling, and I knew exactly where I'd planted every explosive. I'd done the math, making doubly sure, and I knew that if I timed everything perfectly in that situation then I might crawl away without too much damage. At the very least, I expected to survive. And I had. I chuckled again, but this time the act forced blood to well up in my throat and I coughed it out in front of my face, adding to the puddle in the dirt.

Good, I'm alive, so now I just have to see how bad the damage is.

I curled my fingers into the soil, testing my legs, finding them responsive, not broken, though bruised. My ankle felt sprained. Good so far. I pushed with my feet, inching out from beneath the cradle of destruction, forcing my body clear of the heated metal and onto the bloody earth. Once there I inflated my lungs freely, catching my restrained breath, tasting the blood in my throat at last. I collapsed in a heap from the effort, feeling sharp shards of wood and metal scrape at me from below. The entire ground was littered with debris and hunks of concrete. Daggers of wood still lingered with fiery cinders, glowing orange in my decayed vision. At least I could see, and breathe, and smell them burning. My brain hadn't been damaged. Still good so far.

I pushed forward with my knees, trying to lift myself up, to see if I was capable. I would force myself to be if necessary. I made it to my knees and caught sight of my left arm. It was slick with blood and hot with pain from elbow to shoulder. I tried to inspect it, but lifting it caused hotter pain to flare through my neck and side, bolting all the way up into my face. I had to lean back on my hands, catching my breath yet again, feeling gasps of agony build up. Furiously, I choked them back down. Fine, I would crawl until I could walk.

I had to focus. I couldn't afford to stay put. I didn't know how long I'd been unconscious-the Japanese police could still be on the property, searching for me, if they'd survived. It'd been more likely for them, armored and covered as they were. I couldn't let them find me, not in this state, not at any cost. If they did, it was all over.

I crawled across the debris-laden dirt, swatting aside scorched beams and shards of broken glass. I crawled until my lungs were raging and my head was spinning, and then I crawled further, letting myself collapse finally beside the garage that was on the far side property. Half of it was caved in with hurled debris, but I had intentionally kept my motorcycle in the furthest corner, behind everyone else's vehicles. I forced my way up onto my knees, hitting the button that worked the pulley chain. The rickety door slid open, squealing too loudly, so I shut it off. It had opened enough for me to crawl through, so I did, letting my muscles go limp after. The left side of my face was constantly stabbing with pain so I laid the right side on the cool concrete of the floor, collecting my breath. I would need every ounce of strength to get the hell out of here as fast as possible.

I worked up my energy and crawled across the floor, making it to my motorbike. I took a couple deep breaths, and then gritted my teeth as I heaved myself up onto my feet. Once I put my weight down on my right ankle, it stung with agony. So I had sprained it. No matter now. I leaned on my bike for a few more seconds, trying to keep my head from spinning. It spun anyway, so I ignored it and sat down on my bike, turning the key in the ignition and revving the engine. I opened the back door and drove out of the garage. I looked around cautiously, but I didn't see anyone near me. I maneuvered my way through the bumpy terrain of the property, flinching endlessly from the stabbing pain.

I made it onto the small back road leading off the property and gunned the motor as fast as I dared. I was still dizzy, and the more the wind slapped at my throbbing face, stinging and biting, the more nauseous I felt. I began to swerve as my limbs shook from the strain and my vision deteriorated, getting speckled with sick colors. I'd barely made it three miles but I had to pull over or I would wreck and smash my brains all over the asphalt. I couldn't let it end that way, of all things.

I slowed down and turned off the road, rolling into a small gas station. It was closed for the night, so I drove around back, unable to steer straight any longer as my guts lurched. The front tire wobbled and I threw my left foot out to catch myself, tumbling out of the seat and tucking under. The bike veered to the right and toppled over, dying, as I collapsed. I hit the ground too hard on my hands and knees, jerking my chest with the impact, and I felt blood burst up in my mouth. I coughed, and it wracked my body with still more pain. I lay there doubled over for a few long minutes, unable to move. My breath came short and my chest began to pound. If I didn't keep it under control, I might start to hemorrhage. No, damn it! I couldn't afford to come this far just to die here! That simply wasn't an option!

If I stayed here, I would either be found by the taskforce soon enough, or else I might die from my wounds. I wasn't sure just how bad they were, and I had no way to tell. I couldn't drive any further without crashing, and all my nearby Mafia associates were now blown to hell. I had no place to run to, nowhere safe to hide, to recover.

Except of course…for one place. Damn it, but I had no other options left. I would finally have to bring him into this directly. I'd held off for so long on involving him any deeper. Until now, the Mafia syndicate I'd been living with had only known him as an anonymous hacker on the other end of the phone line. He'd done many assignments for me long distance, including reprogramming the missile we'd used to transport the Death Note, but I'd always kept him obscure, out of the picture. We'd briefly shared an apartment during my initiation stages in the Mafia, but we'd hardly really spoke about anything other than my plans. Since I'd become a valued member, advisor to the Boss of my particular collective, I'd stayed with them at our base almost exclusively. I went back to the apartment to check on affairs every few months or so, but I hadn't stayed in a year and half, and I hadn't seen him face-to-face for three months now. I was so close to telling him I no longer required his help. He would have been free to go.

But now all of that was changed, and I had no choice anymore. My plan was destroyed, and I would have to rethink everything from the beginning. I would have to start back at square one. But I would have to live through this first.

I dug my cell phone out of my pants pocket, groaning weakly with the movement, and hit the button to dial his number. I brought it to my ear, listening to it ring, once, twice, three times… When he finally picked up on the fourth ring, his lethargic voice answered with an unenthusiastic, "Hey."

"Matt," I choked out.

"What's up?" he muttered languidly, his voice straining through pursed lips. He was undoubtedly smoking again, as he always seemed to be doing. If he wasn't doing a job for me, he was playing some manner of video game and smoking. Of course, he chain-smoked on the job as well. Even back at the Institution, he would go out in the yard behind the big tree and sneak cigarettes. God knows where he got them.

I was drifting. Not good. I bit my lip hard. "Matt, I need…" I didn't want to say it, and so I hesitated even in spite of the situation. Survival was my top priority now, but even so...my pride was brooding over me. "I'll be coming there now," I told him at last.

"Yeah? For what?" His voice had changed so much, except for the tone. It was deeper, smoother, but it was still spiced with an air of drastic uncaring.

"Just…be ready. Go out and pick up…medical gauze and tape…"

"Huh? Why?" he asked, his inflection barely tweaking upward.

I bared my teeth as a wave of pain swept through. I held it in, but it came out in my voice against my will. "Nnn… Just do as you're told!"

"Mello?" he questioned. "You okay?" He almost sounded concerned.

"No," I growled. "What do you think…the medical gauze is for?"

"Fuck, man." I heard shuffling and clattering over the line. "I'm on my way out now. When you gonna get here?"

"An hour, maybe… Be ready for me to stay there a while…"

"Got it."

I hung up and then dialed the number for one of Rod Ross's underground contacts, who specialized in transportation. He remained under the radar since he never actively participated in any crimes. He simply picked up cargo from one location and took it to another, no questions asked, and was impossible to track. His name was almost as nonexistent as mine. I told him where to find me and then dropped the phone, letting my arm go limp.

I stared up at the night sky, for the first time in long while. By the time I heard a car engine, I realized I had been nearly asleep. I jerked up, snapping out of it, but the effort hurt terribly. I heard the car door open and the sound of boots hit the concrete. I tried to blink away the fog over my vision, but my head was pounding and pounding. I shook it away and sat up, my vision clearing enough to see the transportation expert waiting beside his car. I could only see his silhouette, his eyes hidden behind large sunglasses.

"You M?" the man asked gruffly.

"Yes," I answered, forcing myself onto my feet with horrid strain and lancing agony. "You Tanis?"

"That's me. You sound like you've been through hell."

"Did I ask for your input?" I snapped. I was battered and bleeding, the extent of my injuries unknown, but still I found myself muttering, "I can walk, I can walk." He didn't seem to hear me, and if he did he didn't acknowledge it. I shuffled my way over, limping, as he opened the passenger side door of the car and I sank into the seat. He shut the door and then climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Where to, M?" I told him the address of the apartment building where Matt was staying. He backed out of the lot and pulled onto the road, hitting the gas and speeding off. We drove for a long while, longer than I could keep track of. He didn't ask any questions, didn't even glance at my injuries. Good. Exactly as I was hoping. Rod and our syndicate had used this man's services on more than one occasion, and he'd never slipped up even once. He had nerves of steel and a matching collectedness, which was good for working with all the criminal outfits he did, and also good for this particular situation, since I wasn't sure how bad I looked.

I kept drifting off, wanting so badly to shut my heavy eyelids and sleep. I caught myself doing so a few times and lifted my hand, punching it hard against the door. He jumped a little in his seat and looked over at me. "What is it, M?" I had a strong reputation amongst the criminal underbelly of America, so seeing me in this state must have been surprising. I hoped it was too dark for him to tell clearly what bad shape I was in. I hated showing such weakness to anyone, but I wouldn't have been able to stomach it if Matt had come in person. If I could handle this on my own, I had to.

"Have to…stay awake," I stressed. "Do something clever, Tanis… Impress me," I said.

"O-Okay, M…" He seemed to ponder a second before he turned on the radio. A crash of drums and guitar blared from the speakers and he cranked up the volume, which stung my ears and started my head throbbing even worse. But the pain kept itself constant with it, and I was able to remain more awake. I gripped the seatbelt in my fist as the atrociously loud rock music continued to screech in my ears. "We're almost there," he told me over the sound.

When we finally pulled into the parking area behind our apartment building, I was more alert and aware. He shut off the engine and got out, coming around to open my door for me. He didn't say anything as I struggled to my feet, leaning on the car as I pulled a wad of cash from my pants pocket. I held it out and he took it.

"This is everything I have on me. Take it and forget you ever saw me tonight, Tanis…if you know what's good for you. Don't forget I can find you if I need to."

"Believe me, I do know." I was glad my threats held enough clout even in my current condition. Despite the fact that I was a nineteen-year-old ordering around older, larger, crime-hardened men, not a single one of them had deigned it wise to cross me, or even dare to disagree. Hopefully my reputation would stay intact even after this. If not, I knew who to blame.

Tanis got back in the car and drove off as I made my way to the back door of the building. It was like stepping on razors every time my right foot hit the floor, and the pain shot from there up to my face. But I'd made it this far, and I didn't intend to take any more hits on my pride. I staggered up the stairs, having to concentrate far too hard on putting one foot in front of the other. The pain was searing, so white-hot that it almost felt ice-cold. The irony sickened me enough to prompt a scoff through my gritting teeth. The sweltering agony spliced me through my whole left arm and that side of my face, spangling my vision with sick colors continuously. Every step felt like a hundred miles, and our apartment was only on the third floor.

Had I ever felt pain this intense? Maybe I had, before the orphanage, before the rich caretakers' attempts at doting and sheltering…but I couldn't be sure. I kept seeing those fading pictures, probably memories, of a blonde man I hated and feared and had never really known-except of course for his fists; I knew them well. Who was he? My uncle, or my elder brother, or my father? All I was sure of was the stench of alcohol on his breath, his voice screaming in my face... Most of those memories were a fading blur now.

No, this was definitely the worse pain I could remember, so it was also the worst I'd ever known. I was dizzy and nauseous. Even I was surprised I'd been able to make it all the way back here intact. I was thrown through a wall on the second floor of the Mafia hideout, crawled over the rubble, and trudged through the debris. I somehow navigated through the heaps of rock and twisted metal on my motorbike, with the wind and dust stinging my exposed skin as it blew across me. I just drove as fast as I could, away and away. It seemed as if it had happened so long ago, at the edge of my memory where my family resided. How I made it all the way back here to the apartment in East Los Angeles…I couldn't quite recall anymore, even as I stood here now. Shit, my mind was drifting again.

I made it to the door of the apartment, taking out the key, half-fumbling. I bit my lip ferociously to withhold the groans my body was insisting I produce. It begged me to just fall to my knees and go limp, to cry out for his help, but I refused and threw open the door to the shit-hole apartment, letting out my breath, finally, when I saw him there on the dingy sofa...


	2. Chapter 1

**+Part 1+**

**November 11, 2009**

**1:38 a.m.**

He was bent over his portable game system, leather-gloved thumbs tapping away at the buttons, goggled eyes glued to the tiny screen. The whole chamber was unlit except for the muted television. The fool! He didn't even look up when I entered. How many times had I instructed him to be more aware of his surroundings? We hadn't laid eyes on each other for months and he wasn't even the least bit alert, even after my phone call! He ignored my advice far too often and right now I was in no mood for that endless tapping!

My adrenaline seemed to have finally worn off, and I was left alone with the pain and the exhaustion. I swallowed the blood that had been pooling in my mouth and managed to rasp my voice with harshness rather than pain.

"Matt," I croaked. No response, only further tapping. I frowned hard and it tugged at the skin on my cheek, forcing a wince, making me growl. "Matt," I repeated, slamming the door and leaning back against it.

"Mmm," was all I heard over that infernal tapping.

"Would you take your face out of that damn thing…for one second?"

"Mmm," I heard again, with a, "Long time no see," added unenthusiastically right after it.

I hurled my fist into the rickety wooden door, making it quake on its hinges, ricocheting pain foolishly through my muscles. "Damn you!"

"Chill out," he said to me. "What happened this time? Didn't you have fun with your Mafia buddies?" Tapping. "I got that stuff you wanted. Did one of them get too rough with you, or was it the other way around and you got carried away?" Of course he was speaking through his half-closed lips as they embraced a cigarette burning away. Silver smoke twirled in the dark towards the ceiling.

I sighed irritably and shoved off the door, doing my best not to stumble as I walked my way to the filthy couch he was lounging on. Every motion sent sharp javelins of pain through my injuries. I didn't even know the extent of the damage on my own body, and couldn't concentrate enough to try and decipher it. I hadn't been able to look for myself and I was in danger of going into shock, any second. But I had no options. A hospital was out of the question, completely, and so the only one in the world I had to rely on from this point was Matt.

I only made it halfway to the couch and had to stop and lean my hand on the chair where I always sat, which had grown dusty in my absence. I had to pause and catch my breath heavily against my will. What I wanted to do was scream my lungs out and smash the chair, table, and his accursed little game system to tiny pieces, but I bit back on the urges.

"I need some help," I barked, hating to admit weakness of any kind. Then again, he came along with me on the condition that he agreed to follow my orders. I didn't need to make any requests-only demands.

"Help with what?" His eyes never left the screen. I could swear he hadn't blinked once, although it was hard to tell beyond the barrier of his goggles.

"With…the bandages," I hissed with difficulty.

Even when we were little kids running around the yard at the orphanage, I had never shown Matt any physical ineptitude on my part, and I didn't want to start now. It had always been me who pulled and forced him to go outside against his wishes, and even then all he would do was sit under a tree or on the highest point of the playground equipment and master his Gameboy while I ran around tormenting whichever children I felt like.

Even so, I knew my own limits, however few they were, and this was a major situation. I was losing strength rapidly, my guts churning with sickness, my skin on fire with bone-numbing pain, and had I been any lesser man I would have been unconscious. I'd already come close more than once. The rank smell of mold and cheap plaster was flaring at my nostrils, mixed with the scent of my own sizzled flesh and scorched vinyl, making me dizzier. At least my senses were mostly intact.

"Huh?" At last he lifted his gaze from the videogame device and looked up at me. This time he blinked behind his lenses and a swift change swept over his features. His jaw slackened, almost losing the cigarette he held between his lips, and his red eyebrows lifted high onto his forehead. "Jesus fucking Christ," he said.

"You're as sharp as ever, Matt."

"Fuck, Mello, what happened?" he demanded, tossing his game dismissively on the couch and standing. "When you said 'some gauze' I didn't think…"

"…They got me," I said angrily, festering with resentment at being momentarily bested. "Damn Japanese taskforce…broke in before I expected it! They had someone who knew my name…! Neylon knew it because he had the Eyes, and I thought maybe Kira controlled him so he would tell the taskforce my name...but Yagami didn't know it, didn't say it, until he saw my face! He must've…gotten the EYES somehow! Do you realize what that means? Even if it was sooner than I expected, I should have planned for that and at least covered my face! I should have worn a fucking mask, a helmet-something!"

"Shit, man, what are you talking about?"

"I wasn't joking when I called you that time! Shinigami are real, and any human can write a name down in one of their notebooks and kill people-as long as they have their face and name! That's how Kira's been doing it! But if you have the EYES you only need a fucking face! Why didn't I plan for their side to have the EYES too?"

"Wait, you mean you're telling me…the Japanese Kira Taskforce knows your real name?"

"Yeah, one of them did… Yagami was his name. He told the others… But don't worry…he's dead by now…and only HE saw my face. You need a name AND a face to kill… One of those mafia rejects managed to shoot him up before I blew the whole place and ran… But someone else on their side might make the Eye Deal next… We won't be safe…"

Not good. My thoughts were getting too jumbled. My usual precision was off. I only half realized how out of breath I was.

He approached me, lifting an arm, to do what I don't know. He stopped the motion in mid-air. "So they're burns…? You did this to yourself?"

"I had no choice!" I snapped. "They had me cornered! I'd rigged the explosives in the beginning to get rid of all the evidence once I was done with those bastards…and just in case anything like that ever happened… It was my absolute LAST resort, to blow the place… Shit, I should never have allowed it to get that far! Now they have the notebook again…! I screwed up, damn it!"

"Fuck, Mello, forget that shit for a minute. This looks bad… C'mon, let's get you in the bathroom…"

I began to walk stiffly past him towards the abomination of a washroom the tiny apartment possessed. He waited, hesitating, lifting his arm again as if he would help me, but thought better of it. Wise decision. He jogged ahead, his boots tromping on the tile once he got there. He flicked on the light and waited for me as I shuffled in, squinting from the brightness at first. I sat down gladly on the toilet lid, allowing my right shoulder to hunch. I couldn't do the same with the left or else agony would shoot through me from fingertips to eyeballs. He crouched down in front of where I sat, lifting those goggles of his onto his head to liberate the vibrant green of his eyes, which I had so seldom seen. He looked me over with unhindered vision and shook his head.

"Damn, man…this looks even worse in the light."

"Shut up."

"No, Mello… Look, this is seriously bad… Looks like second-degree burns… Maybe some places are third-degree, because it's totally black… You SHOULD go to a hospital for something this bad…"

"I can't go to a hospital, idiot," I scorned, my strength continuing to fail. I wouldn't dignify him with an exasperated explanation to the obvious reasons.

Thankfully, I didn't need to, because he heaved a sigh and said, "Yeah, I know. I just don't know how to deal with this… I'm a hacker not a doctor."

"Basic medical training was part of the House curriculum; everyone learned it," I reminded him condescendingly, trying to overlook my dizziness and ever-increasing loss of breath.

"I didn't pay any attention to that snore-fest. They also taught us how to cook and sew and build birdhouses… I didn't pay attention to that shit either."

"You're never attentive enough!" I sneered, finding that scolding him was improving my mood, if only just slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, so you keep telling me." He glanced at my face and I noticed his eyes settle on the left side for a moment. His cigarette was still burning away in his lips as his jaw slackened again. "Shit…"

I looked away before he did. "Will you put that out?" I barked.

He took it from his mouth and snuffed it out on the floor tile. "…Y'know, I didn't have to look to know it was you at the door," he told me suddenly, somehow knowing what I had been thinking earlier. "Even though it's been months… For one thing you had a key, and for another…who else grits their teeth that loud all the time? Only you, Mello."

"Shut up!" I snapped, wincing from the flaming pain in my face. I had to stop and breathe. "…Listen, I just need you to clean the wounds and wrap them, okay? I can't see them enough to know what I'm doing…and I don't have the muscle strength right now. I'll talk you through it."

"Fuck, man, I didn't get nearly enough… I need to pick up some more shit for this…"

I would have rolled my eyes if I weren't certain it would hurt. "Why am I not surprised? Get going then!"

"What should I get besides gauze?"

"You're useless! I call ahead so you'll be prepared and you're still useless!"

"You didn't tell me it was this fucking bad," he argued. He was the only person who ever argued with me.

"I didn't KNOW how bad it was, you idiot!"

"Fine, I'll just go look it up online." He sighed again and trotted off. In moments I heard him tapping away at the keyboard of one of his laptops he'd rigged up in the apartment.

Often he was a buffoon-the essence of nonchalance and the icon of his young age, but there was no better technical engineer on the planet. His deductive reasoning and problem solving skills never came close to mine, and he wasn't adept at quick-thinking, but his other saving graces were so compensating that he was third in line to succeed L, after myself and Near. I knew he could never bear that name, nor did he want to, but he had been taught by L as a child also, and was the only other person at Wammy's House I could stand the company of. He wasn't so adamantly devoted to my cause as me, but I required his skills and his obedience. That was why I asked him to come with me on this mission in the first place. Why he agreed, I still wasn't sure.

He returned shortly, lighting another cigarette. "Okay, I got it. I'll be back as soon as I can…"

"Just shut your mouth and get going," I growled, resisting the urge to clutch at my injuries as they stabbed and stung.

"Okay, okay, I'm going. Do me a favor and don't pass out in here and bust your head on the floor. I don't need any more shit to wrap up." His tone wasn't angry, it never was. He was far too lazy to get angry with me as often as I warranted it. He turned to leave then without another word.

"Wait," I called, moving to stand suddenly, taking a step and then flinching and slumping back weakly against the sink cabinet. My head spun and my vision went black. "God…!"

"Shit, what?" He came back in the bathroom, hand out, ready to catch me. "Watch it, man. Sit back down."

"Listen to me, alright?" I was too disoriented to think efficiently, getting mixed up, making moves I shouldn't have, but damn it I had to focus!

"I'm listening, just chill out."

I took a collecting breath, the pain still unbearably hot, like a scalding bath searing throughout my epidermis. Blistering-hot pins and needles jabbing, twisting, impaling… Then in the next instants it almost didn't hurt at all, which was a very bad sign. My deadened skin was crusting, tugging at the rest of my surface, making it worse. There was fabric and shrapnel embedded in me as well, I knew, and I could feel it digging.

"Cover your face when you go out, Matt," I told him severely. "From now on, even if it's just for five minutes or half a second, make sure no one can even get so much as a glimpse of your whole face!"

"I got it, man. Sometimes Kira can kill with just a face. That's how the second Kira did it, right? You told me that before." He snapped his goggles back over his eyes as if to emphasize the point.

"That's not enough anymore!" I roared, stretching the muscles of my face too far. I bit my tongue with the pain to keep quiet, clenching my fists and pounding them into the sink. I could taste more blood. "Shit!"

"Take it easy, Mello," he said through the cigarette, coming closer to me. "What's wrong?"

"They got me, Matt," I snarled, hating to have to explain these things to anyone but myself. "The guy who saw my face is dead but they still have my name! They shouldn't have that much! I told you, there are real Shinigami-real gods of death-and there are two murder notebooks: the one I had, and another one Kira has hidden, which means there's also more than one Shinigami in this world! Now the Japanese have both notebooks and both gods of death! I never thought they were actually cooperating with it, but they must be! It must have taken out Sidoh because he didn't warn us like he was supposed to! There couldn't have been a spy in my ranks, which means Yagami must've had the Shinigami Eyes!"

"Shinigami Eyes? You said that before, but what…" I could tell he wasn't absorbing what I was trying to explain.

"Yes! Listen, if you have a murder notebook you can trade half your life for the Shinigami Eyes, and with that power you only need to see a person's face, Matt! Their real name appears above their head, right there for you to see! That's the secret! That's how Kira did it all, and how I had one of my flunkies do it too! Kira is with the Japanese taskforce, I'm sure of it now, and those incompetent police are holding all the cards right in front of him! Who knows what Kira could do, what Kira could make the Shinigami do? He could have Eyes everywhere and we'd never know it! Just a glimpse of your stupid face and he can control you, make you do whatever he wants-fucking kill you as easy as scribbling your name! So just cover your face, Matt, okay?" I was grabbing his shirt and didn't even realize when I'd done it.

He clasped my good arm, the one I was grabbing his shirt with. He squeezed it once, firmly. "Okay, okay, I'll take care of it, Mello. Don't freak out or you'll make yourself sick." He clasped my arm once more before he left the room again and I heard him shuffling around in a closet before his boots stomped away. "I'll be right back," he called and then the front door opened and shut.

Now that he was gone I allowed myself to sink back into a seated position, catching my breath painfully, deeply. I was getting more numb now, the heat encasing me like a fog, my limbs turning to sand, muscles fraying, skin getting clammy. I felt like I weighed 300 pounds. I needed to lie down but I dreaded the contact. Every time I moved, what was left of my vest roughly chaffed the wounds on my neck and shoulder. The eradicated bits of metal, wood, and glass tore themselves into me. I was still dizzy and getting dizzier, and nausea was clutching more anxiously at my gut each second that passed.

Not good… Was I in shock? Had it taken this long for it to really hit me? I dropped down to my knees between the tub and the toilet, leaning my good arm over the edge of the cracked linoleum, unable to sit up without aid any longer… My mind wandered...

Damn it all, I hated everything about this situation. After all my careful planning…! I spent the better part of two fucking years weaseling my way into that elite crime syndicate, getting them to trust me, to listen to me! All the damn intimidating I had to do to make it to the top, and all that money that got spent keeping me there! I'd had those sleazy fuckers bowing to my every order by the time I was done with them! For a year and a half I was a figure of authority in their ranks, second only to the highest man in reputation. With the Mafia's resources I had that godforsaken base built in the middle of the desert, kidnapped the Deputy Director's daughter, and even held the country hostage using the President himself! Matt had to hack into a foreign government's network and confiscate that missile, get it transported and even manually reprogram it…! All the risks I took, all the people I had to slaughter, all the work I had to do-and in the end all I got away with was my fucking life!

Four years since I left Wammy's House... Four years of hard work and now I had no notebook, no leverage, and no power over the Japanese taskforce. That notebook had been my only lead and I had no way to get it back now. The Mafia gang I'd usurped was dead, shot down or blown to hell by my own hands so none of them could talk. The former President whose unwilling cooperation I had attained had killed himself. The man who traded half his life for the Shinigami Eyes, Jack Neylon, was as dead as all the rest of his gang…and so I had virtually no more connections. The Shinigami Sidoh had disappeared along with the notebook, and was surely in the possession of the Japanese police now, which meant it was in danger of falling back into Kira's hands, if it wasn't already. All my strings had been cut! I'd lost every edge I ever had! I was back to square one!

God damn it, now Near would be ahead! He'd been ahead from the start-he already had the real L's reports and deductions from his own investigation, as well as support from the United States government and a legitimately funded operation. He had federal officials and professionals under his thumb. All I had was what I could forge for myself through intimidation, murder, and criminal connections. Not to mention Near still had the only existing photograph of me. I never should have left it at the orphanage…but I did because I knew someday I'd need an excuse to find him. With the situation as tricky as it was right now, I'd have to get that back as soon as possible, somehow… I'd need to find out exactly where he was, because doubtless his force of professionals, the SPK, had already hidden their files after finding out there had been a spy amongst them. That well-paid-off spy was now dead like most of the SPK, all at the hands of my subordinate who wielded the notebook. In all likelihood, Near had also gained direct contact with the current L, Touta Matsuda, in Japan and was sharing information. He was too far ahead in the race! Damn him, the spoiled little ingrate…! I needed to get my ground back…and it had to be soon!

"Mello," I heard dully, the voice nagging at the back of my awareness. "Hey, Mello!"

I knew the voice. Cold, indifferent, oftentimes robotic like his machines, but somewhere in there was streak of his good humor... He never seemed discouraged or annoyed. He never became frustrated with me, even as I understood that was an easy thing to feel in my company. I never understood how he could be that laid back. He'd always been that way, even when we first met and I had picked on him and kicked dirt in his face and threw paper wads at him from across the room. Nothing ever riled him up or brought him down. It was because of those things that my harassment of him had grown old fast and somehow instead we ended up friends…

"Mello!" I snapped awake, barely realizing I was still bent over the bathtub. My first impulse was to grab my gun, but I knew it was only Matt and forced myself to calm down, not having the energy regardless. My heart was racing even faster now and I hated it. "You passed out, man," he was telling me. I sat up quickly, too quickly, and darted my hand for the toilet. I threw up blood and liquefied chocolate. "Shit."

I felt the cold leather of his glove brush my eyelid as he gathered some of my hair out of my face. He steadied me with his other hand on my waist, awkwardly trying his best not to touch my wounds. I wanted to shove him away but I was too occupied emptying my stomach contents. He kept my hair out of my face without a word, just waiting for me to finish.

Once I did I wasted no time in shoving him away, knocking him on his ass. "You're welcome," he remarked. I groaned, sitting up slowly, knowing I'd made myself sick by sitting up too fast too suddenly after lying down for so long. I slammed the toilet lid shut angrily and flushed it. "Take it easy."

"It's your fault," I accused.

"Oh, so I guess you enjoy being flopped like a corpse over that shitty tub?"

I ignored him and moved to turn on the bath faucet, shakily. I finally ripped off my ruined gloves and then washed my mouth out, hacking and spitting to get rid of the taste. "Did you get everything?" I asked.

"Yeah, so let's get that thing you call a shirt off of you and get to work." He removed his gloves and then rolled up the sleeves of his red and black striped shirt. "Sit on the edge of the tub, I guess... I'll do my best." I took my stainless 9mm Beretta from my pants and reluctantly set it aside before I sat on the edge of the tub. He sat on the toilet, flicking out the switchblade he always carried in his boot. He put his goggles back up on his head and started to work, slitting the seams of my vest down the side while I unzipped the front. He worked carefully, cutting and peeling the vinyl from around my burned left shoulder, chest, and ribs, making me dig my fingers into my thigh from the pain, reawakening the heat of it. He moved to the other side and slit the vinyl down the right seam and the back, peeling the sections off piece by piece. "This would be a lot easier if all your clothes weren't so damn tight."

"I didn't tell you to talk," I hissed, "I told you to get to work!"

I was bare-chested now with my vest in shreds at my feet. "The heat fucking melted your clothes right into your skin… And your hair is singed into your face. I can see glass and metal chunks in here… It's really bad, Mello."

"Don't you think I know that?" I growled. "Just get on with it."

He washed his hands in the sink and splashed his face before he retook his seat. He dug around through the plastic shopping bag he'd brought and took out tweezers and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He poured some over the instrument and his hands, and then scooted closer. He set to work plucking the shredded bits of vinyl from my wound, working as delicately as he could. I kept my black fingernails burrowed in my pants legs and breathed through my teeth.

"Sorry, man," he was saying. "To make things worse, the light in here is shit… Just don't pass out on me again." He kept at it, plucking and picking carefully, gently, letting the flakes of cloth fall to the floor. Then he started on the shrapnel, ripping free bits of wedged debris from the building I'd blown to hell. A little heap of shattered glass, bits of brick and concrete, and chunks of metal collected in the wastebasket.

It had to be 30 solid minutes of him plucking shrapnel and melted vinyl before he finally said, "Fuck, I think that's all of it…" He wiped the sweat beads off his forehead with his sleeve and sat back, resting his hands for a while. "How you holding up?"

"Fine," I answered gruffly.

He dug out a tiny pair of scissors next. "I'm gonna have to cut your hair a little."

"Whatever, just get on with it." He scooted still closer until our knees were interlocked and leaned near to my face, lifting some of my hair and snipping at it. They tugged at my wound, my skin having burned around the hairs, and I grinded my teeth into each other to keep quiet.

Once he had the rest of my hair free from the burn he set down the scissors and sighed. "Now what?"

I tried to concentrate as my vision blurred. "…Tell me what the burns look like…"

"Well, it's sort of…leathery and black here on your shoulder…and a little on your arm… The rest is red and blistered… The blisters are like…white and swollen…"

I tried very hard to keep my breathing under control, but it wanted to pump erratically. He put his hand on my thigh, I guess to steady me as I shook. I finally caught my air and breathed as slowly as I could, promptly shoving his hand away. "…Okay… First of all…I need you to pour cold water over it…" He cranked on the bathtub faucet and helped me lean back halfway in the tub. He got a cup and filled it with cold water, flushing my wounds with it. I bared my teeth and jammed my head into the wall, hissing loudly. I motioned for him to keep going and he washed the cold water over my burns a couple times before I told him to stop. I sat back and he put his hand on my thigh again to steady me. Didn't he ever learn? I shoved his hand away again. "Now…you have to…drain all the blisters…and flush them clean…and then…" I breathed. "And then…you have to peel off all the dead skin so new skin can grow over and scar."

"Peel it off? You mean all this black…?"

"Yes, all of it, or I can't heal."

"And the blisters…"

"Yeah, you have to cut them open. So get to it."

"…Can you handle this? I could go back on the street…see if I can't score you some morphine."

Was he serious? "I don't like my mind being fucked around with! You don't know what the fuck you're doing, so I need to be aware! Just shut the hell up and get to work already! I can handle myself!" He hesitated, staring at me unsurely, brows curved. Why was he so squeamish all of a sudden? "Give me something to bite down on if you're that broken up about it!" He gave me his glove and I chomped down on the leather as he poured alcohol on his switchblade and then heated it over his lighter. I moved to sit on the floor and grabbed hold of the edge of the tub, bracing myself.

"Ready?" I nodded and he slit at the first raw heat blister, unleashing the sick pressure along with a spike of pain. I growled through my teeth and nodded, telling him to continue. He slit all the blisters and let the fluid drain, and then he flushed them out with cold water again. Then it was time to catch my breath, but it wouldn't be caught. I clutched my chest, vision fading, sweat bursting on me. "Mello?" I slumped and he grabbed my good shoulder to keep me upright, holding me there.

I sucked in oxygen, urging my body to calm itself. You're stronger than this, damn it! You can handle yourself! I grabbed hold of his sleeve once I was stable and pushed him away. "I got it," I gasped. "I might… I might be going into shock, Matt."

"…What? Uh, what should I do?"

"I still have time… You need to get the dead skin off now, and then clean out the wounds with alcohol. You understand?"

"Yeah." He poured alcohol over the tweezers again and I put the glove back into my mouth, biting down. "Okay, here goes." He peeled off the first hunk of my charred flesh. I scoffed through my gag and shut my eyes tightly. He continued, ripping off piece after piece of my blackened skin.

"Hurry… I'm getting dizzier… I'll throw up."

He let each bit of crisped flesh fall in the wastebasket, his eyes wide with concentration, his teeth mercilessly chewing his bottom lip. He wouldn't get sick, we were too conditioned for that, but I definitely found some form of concern ridged in his features.

We were childhood friends, sure, but ever since L had decided on choosing either me or Near as his successor, I had left Matt behind in an attempt to stay one step ahead of my rival. Always we were competing, even if Near never rose to my taunts or sniffed at my bait. Matt more or less knew that he was nothing more than a failsafe, in the event that both me and Near were unable to succeed L. He wasn't ever really top of the list, yet I knew he didn't mind. He had drifted to the background of my attention… We hadn't spoken in over six years, ever since he left the Institution. Did Matt even still give a damn about me after the way I'd treated him? I figured he only came with me to get revenge for L, and to get the fuck out of that heist hacker scheme he'd gotten himself into after ditching the orphanage. If he went with a single thing too long he got bored and moved on, and he tended to get bored easily. I hadn't thought about the old times back at the orphanage in a while, having devoted myself to my new life of finding Kira. I didn't ever want to think back to those times, did I? Better times. Relatively peaceful times. Times I would never have again…

So far on this mission Matt had been perfectly loyal and obedient, helping me with anything I demanded and never complaining no matter what the task was. Usually I would have him do the menial labor, errands, or any other petty job I wasn't interested in, until I had something truly important for him to do. In all fairness, I hadn't needed him to do that much, but it had been admittedly useful having another pair of hands that were in my league. I didn't halfway trust anyone on this earth aside from Matt, L, and Near. Now L was dead and Near had always been my arch-nemesis, even though I could count on him if I ever sank low enough to want to do so. Unlikely.

Was it just for the sake of L's memory that Matt followed me now? Obviously he trusted me in return if he came knowing the risks. Was it just to experience something new for a change? He was risking his life every day on this mission and he didn't seem to mind. Was it just plain excitement for him, to finally be facing down such danger? Was that all this was to him-a thrill-seek?

But now he seemed so visibly shaken... Was it just the situation itself? Like he'd said, he was a hacker. He was far more comfortable with machines than he would ever be with people, and I never saw him willingly talk to anyone back at the House besides me or L…or the prettier girls. In addition he was a thief and a lone wolf. It wasn't in his nature to care much about people. I wasn't sure what to think now as I watched the sweat continue to swell on his forehead and dribble down, stinging his bright green eyes. He didn't dare pause in his work even to mop his brow.

I'd distracted myself well, but it still took a seemingly endless span of peeling and tearing, of me fading into and out of half-delirium, scoffing and wincing, to bare my open wounds to the air. "Done," he exhaled, slumping back on the toilet. He wiped his face with his sleeve finally and shook his head over and over. "My legs are asleep," he cracked, and shook his head some more. "All the dead skin is gone…"

"…How do they look?" I asked under my breath.

"The burns on your face aren't as bad… And your eye is obviously okay, by some luck… Your left eyebrow was singed off and a lot of your hair was charred… The rest of the burns on your shoulder and chest are red now, and some of them are bleeding… Your neck isn't too bad off."

"At least I'm still functional. That's good enough for now."

"…You said to clean them out now?"

"Yeah." He inhaled steeply through his nose and then let it out slowly. He poured cold water in the cup again and flushed out the blood and other fluids from my open wounds. After that, he picked up the bottle of alcohol and I leaned my back over the edge of the tub, bracing my feet against the sink cabinet. "Just make sure you clean everywhere or this will all turn out to be a waste of time."

"Promise me you won't rip my throat out," he said as he held the bottle over me.

I nearly flinched at the sight, my stomach tying itself in knots from the horrid anticipation. "I make no promises." He shrugged and poured the alcohol over the raw-red open wound on my shoulder first. I couldn't withhold a hissing scream from the eruption of pain and my spine jolted with it. "Shit!" I blacked out for a straight minute, hearing his voice call my name beyond the colorless nothing.

"Jesus, Mello… You're gonna give me a heart attack or something," he muttered when I came to, his hand on my good shoulder.

"Just be quicker with it," I coughed. "Hurry!" He didn't hesitate anymore and that was damn smart of him, because if he had paused even one more time, I would have had another break in the pain instead of all of it blurring into a single conflagration. He drenched my arm, shoulder, neck, ribs, part of my back and left side of my face in the alcohol, using a washcloth where necessary. When he was through I collapsed, lungs pumping viciously, my rationality numbed. "Goddamn fucking shit…!" My vision went, leaving me blacked-out once again. I saw nothing of the world for a time, and then sick dots of color flecked by here and there. I was breathing so hard my lungs raged and my skin went cold. Not good.

"You okay?"

"That's the stupidest fucking question you've ever asked me!" He shrugged and rubbed his hair out of his eyes, which immediately drooped back in place over them. He then scratched his chin and cheek. For the first time I noticed he badly needed to shave. His chin was speckled with orange-red hair, a shade lighter than the hair on his head. I'd never really realized that before, not that it mattered. He probably hadn't even bothered with personal hygiene since I left for the Mafia over a year ago. Slob.

"Time to wrap you up?" he asked.

"Did you get disinfecting ointment?"

"Yeah." He dug around in the bag and took it out.

"Use that first…then pour alcohol over some gauze and wrap with that, then secure it… Hurry…"

"I am so gonna need a mouthful of cigarettes when I'm done with this…"

He dripped the ointment on me as gently as possible, despite the fact that at this point a feather could brush me and it would feel like a tiger claw. He avoided rubbing it in with his fingers or else I WOULD rip his throat out from the agony. The alcohol and antiseptic would hopefully prevent a deadly infection. I didn't have the luxury of dying from gangrene at this point, especially after spoiling everything just to escape with my life.

He poured alcohol over the gauze and wrapped my chest and upper arm in rolls of it, having to circle me a good many times to get my shoulder covered. He started a new roll in the middle and then wrapped my neck as well. He had to improvise on my face, cutting out patches of gauze and securing them with medical tape. He wrapped the rest around my brow, over my hair as best he could. My left eye would be covered for a while. "Okay, how's that? How's it feel?"

"Like hell," I grumbled, "but it's fine."

He stood and stretched. I heard his vertebrae pop one by one as he yawned obnoxiously. He flexed his legs a little but that was all, being far too used to that hunched over position from constantly bending over to play his game systems. I was still on the floor against the side of the tub, finally letting fatigue creep up over my muscles as the pain burned away beneath my bandages. Third-degree burns were close to painless when you got them, but second-degree burns…after a while…it was as if I were still on fire… My lungs were heaving but I still couldn't get enough air. I felt so sick, so weak, so pathetic… I was positively humiliated!

Now I had one more very good reason to find Kira before Near. I owed this bastard two now, and both transgressions were deeply personal… Damn him!

"Hey!" I heard Matt calling, distantly. I felt inclined to be annoyed, and then there were no other sounds after that so I let it slide. I relaxed, at last, savoring the ability to do so. I slipped, fell, sank…

I felt like someone was pulling at my chest, tugging, yanking, and then sitting on it with all their weight before reaching down my throat and punching me right in the ribs. Shit, why? Let me sleep…! It had been fading-but now I felt sick again all at once as the weight closed in and then I was weightless… A split second later I was heavier than I'd ever been. Shit, what's happening?

All of a sudden the bathroom light was glaring and I was coughing, confused but still sucking in air. My chest was on fire. I could only clearly see his hair out of the corner of my eye, a color I could only come to describe as wine-red with natural ginger highlights. All the scummy, yellowing colors of the bathroom walls and ceiling were distorted beyond that in ill waves.

"Fuck," he said, "that was close…" I finally realized I was flat on the floor and he was bent on all fours over me, his face hovering right above mine. He was breathing heavily, his arms at either side of me. His pale lips were glistening with saliva. "You with me, Mello?"

I coughed again. "What…are you talking about?" My mouth was wet also, and I could taste the smoky tar of cigarettes all the way to the back of my throat.

"You passed out again," he explained, "and then you stopped breathing! Your heart was still going, but your breathing just…quit! Scared the living hell outta me, but you're back now, right?"

I stopped breathing? Damn it, my body was just nagging at me to be weak! If only my physics were as formidable as my mind! I was stronger than most men my size, easily, but unfortunately all human beings had their limits. My build wasn't very intimidating, and I could usually more than compensate for that. Maybe even I hadn't realized just how badly I'd been hurt… I had gone into shock without noticing exactly when…

It was degrading that I had to be reduced to such a level that Matt had to resuscitate me. I was almost surprised he bothered to give me mouth-to-mouth at all. He could have just left me here and gotten on with his careless life. How utterly debasing this was!

"…Thanks," I said, not looking up into his face as it lingered so close to mine.

"Whoa, did you just THANK me? Pretty sure this is the first time." He wiped off his mouth on his shirtsleeve.

"Just get out of my face already."

"Fine, fine. Let's get your oven-baked ass to bed." He lifted me by my lower back, cautiously sitting me up off the cold, dirty tiles. I clenched my fists and tried to push up onto my knees. "Here," he said, and crouched down, wrapping my good arm around his neck and helping me to my feet.

"You don't need to do that," I snapped viciously, much too viciously for how badly my head was spinning and my lungs were protesting. Because of it, I stumbled and had to fall against him and suck in more air. I was too dizzy to see for a moment. "I can walk…"

"Dude, just let me help you, okay? For fuck's sake."

I growled but let him help me, leaning my deadening weight on him as I walked, still feeling much too heavy for my bones. After going through all of that…had I really almost died right here in the bathroom of this shitty apartment? It seemed too sickeningly pathetic to be true.

He kicked open the door to the single small bedroom in the apartment and helped me over to sit on the shoddy cot the landlord had called a bed. It was narrow and thin, and the springs impaled you once any weight was put on it, but it felt damn good under me compared to that bathroom floor. I attempted in vain to kick off my boots but with each stretch of my muscles I got sicker, and so without a word Matt got to his knees and pulled them off for me. He then lifted my ankles and set them on the mattress, making me flinch terribly from the pain in my right one.

"Did I tell you to touch me?" I demanded hoarsely.

"Do you wanna lay down or not?" he asked, not vindictively in the least. He slid his hands, which were comfortably warm, gently beneath my waist and knees and then moved me into proper position on the cot, laying my head in the pillow. I hadn't realized how strong he was. He'd lifted all my weight with hardly any strain.

"You need to wrap my ankle too," I said. The pain of that had been pathetic compared to my burns, so I'd overlooked it.

"What now? What'd you do to your ankle?"

"A building fell on me, you asshole!"

"Oh, right."

He set to work wrapping my ankle as well. The mattress smelled foul and was stained from a dozen ancient sources, but I didn't care. It was bliss to at last rest my head. He took his hands away and I let my muscles unclench and tried to rest them. I attempted to brood over other things so as not to focus on my weakness, and my brains settled most immediately on the dilapidated state of the apartment. "Fully-furnished" my ass. All this place came with was a couch and chair set from the stone age, this cot, a rickety table, and a closet full of folding lawn-chairs. We'd rented a nicer apartment downtown, for sheer convenience and space, which was where we stored the main body of our computer equipment. This place on the East Side was where we stayed most often in order to keep a low profile. So far I hadn't corroborated all my suspicions, but we would need to relocate there very soon so that I could track down Near.

A full five minutes passed and I realized he was still standing there in the room. "What?" I asked him irritably.

"…I should have gone with you, Mello," he said.

"What are you talking about?" I sneered.

"To the Mafia. I should have joined with you."

"Don't be stupid. I told you to stay here and keep an eye on activity in town while I was gone with the Mafia. You would've only gotten in my way there."

"No, I could've done something, at least. I know I'm not as smart as you, but I could have done something, anything, to prevent this."

I shut my eyes again, trying to let my body relax in spite of the lingering pain. Why did he care so much? He never bothered to care. "Look, Matt, I needed you to stay here and make sure our in-town affairs were taken care of. Those Mafia fuckers were trouble enough to keep in check, not to mention Kira and the Japanese Taskforce…but if I had to worry about YOU being there…" I exhaled, starting to get worked up again, and my lungs just couldn't take it right now. I didn't know what I was going to say to finish that sentence, and that didn't sit well with me. "Just let it go. If you'd come then you'd have been in my way, and with how things turned out…I wouldn't have been able to save both of us. If you'd been there, you'd either be dead or be rotting in prison until Kira got rid of you. It's better that you stayed here, invisible."

"…Okay, Mello, if you say so. I'll just let you get some rest then." He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

The pain still flared in bursts on and off, dangling me just above sleep, deceiving me into a false sense of ease and then ripping it away again with a clench of jaw and fists. I scoffed, biting my teeth together from the lightning bolts of agony that shot through me consistently. I stared up into the dark, still festering over my defeat. The only thing I could do was start again from scratch. At the very least, I had vital information I could use to my advantage. I knew everything about the notebook and Near didn't. I could get whatever I needed from Near and the group of flunkies he was heading. All I had to do was track down one of the members I'd left alive, preferably soon. I knew Near, and I knew he would suspect I would try and get what I needed by force from his team sooner or later…so I needed to get my hands on one of the survivors before he tightened his guard too much more. Matt could find and hack into their secured information, and then I could decide which one to approach…as soon as I had the strength to confront them.


	3. Chapter 2

**+Part 2+**

**November 12, 2009**

**5:09 a.m.**

The door clicked and creaked back open some dizzy, listless hours later, so I looked over into the dark, seeing his slouching figure enter the room. He quietly approached the cot where I was laying, I don't know why.

"What's the matter?" I rasped.

He jumped, his shoulders tautening in surprise. "You're awake?"

"It hurts too much… I can't sleep."

"Oh."

"What're you doing in here?"

"Just checking on you," he replied in the dark, his face not visible to me, only his silhouette, half-striped. "Wanted to make sure you were still breathing." A flash of light from a passing car briefly illuminated the room through the mostly boarded-over window and it reflected off the lenses of his goggles, letting me glimpse the smoke from his mouth twirling upwards above his head.

"What time is it?"

"Past 5:00 a.m. I finished the rest of Torture Fortress IV, so the sun'll be up soon." He walked around to the other side of the bed, hesitating, reaching up to scratch the back of his head before he sat down on it. "Sure you can't sleep?"

"It's not like I want to be awake," I sneered. "Maybe I'll just wait to pass out again…"

"I can still go out and find you some painkillers," he suggested.

"…I can't afford to be any more below my best. I'll think about it."

"Okay." I heard him snuff his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. "Well, since you can't sleep…" He pulled something from his pocket and leaned over closer to me on the bed. "Here, it's the last one... I think you left it by mistake sometime." He handed me a bar of my preferred chocolate. I struggled to lift my arm and snatched it gladly in my right hand, not waiting an instant to rip the foil open with my teeth and snap a piece off. I held it there on my tongue, just letting the heat of my mouth melt it gradually, shivering as it slid down my throat. I didn't want to risk the pain of chewing. I savored every possible second of its perfection, feeling less and less lethargic bit by bit. After the first swallow I sighed and cracked off another portion, letting it melt again so I wouldn't put any extra strain on my facial muscles. "Thought you'd feel better after that." I repeated the process many times, letting the bites melt in my mouth before I swallowed.

"Those Mafia bastards bought me chocolate in bulk every week… Now that I think of it that was stupid of me to allow. I think it just helped give away my location more easily… Damn it all, I should've been more careful!"

"We'll have to be more careful from now on, then. You probably shouldn't eat it so much in public."

"I know, but sometimes it's hard for me to think without it."

"You're just like L," he commented quietly.

"No, I'm only half like him. Near's the one who inherited his calm and his patience…his objective distance. All I got were the leftovers. I just don't have it in me to sit idly back and wait for people to wander into my plots…never getting involved in the process. Waiting four fucking years for everything to come into play was hell enough. And now it's all ruined!" I couldn't forget my miserable disappointment for a second, even through the pain.

"You prefer action, I know," he said. "Don't forget L did too, when it was possible. Near was never willing to go as far or get his hands dirty. He always had everyone else do his work for him. You don't… You make sure things get done yourself. You're more like L than Near could hope to be."

Why was he saying this to me? "You really do miss him too, don't you?"

"I dunno… Yeah, I guess."

There was a long pause, the silence stirring with memories of the four of us back at Wammy's House, all gathered together in the few sleepless morning hours L was available in-between cases. We were all seated around a table full of paperwork and tagged evidence, practicing, testing ourselves, offering deductions. I recalled Near usually suggesting the solution only half a second before I did, and the fights that ensued which L had to calmly break up, nudging us apart with a bare foot or an index finger. We would sit back down, listening to him pour out his ideas to us, distracting us from the fight only momentarily as we got caught up in our mentor's genius streaming out before us.

I remembered starting to truly hate Near on one of those exact nights as I coveted L's approval over his, demanded L's attention like no one else's…and all as Matt sat silently beside us with a Gameboy. He would listen just as closely as both of us but never did he offer his own suggestions. It would be later, after Near and I were dismissed, that L would speak with Matt, hearing what deductions he had to offer. He wasn't by any means less bright than Near or myself, only less assertive, dismissive of authority, too reluctant to stand up and be responsible. In a word: he was LAZY. But he was also brilliant. Sometimes the first quality could mask the second, but I had always seen it there, hiding behind the layers of wild red hair and tinted sport-glasses. I had always seen it, even when I didn't want to, even when I tried to beat him up or single him out for it. His genius was different from mine, from Near's, and from L's, but it was genius nonetheless. He hadn't been L's first choice, or even his second…but he had been a choice.

He broke the silence at last. "Want me to get you some more chocolate tomorrow?"

"That's the second stupidest question you've ever asked me."

"Guess that's a yes."

I broke off another piece, letting it melt, even the slightest movements of my jaw causing my face wounds to sting. Chocolate was a natural painkiller, conveniently enough, and I let myself taste every morsel.

"If you're not sleeping anytime soon…I need you to find the personnel files of the Kira taskforce Near is running," I told him.

"The Special Provision for Kira, right?"

"Right. There should only be four of them left, including Near. I need to know exactly who and where they are."

"I'll take care of it as much as I can here… Might need the more hardcore equipment at the other place though…"

"Do what you can."

"Got it, Boss."

"Don't call me that." No more words passed between us. I finished the bar sometime in the night, crumpling the empty foil, but that was the last thing I remembered.

**November 13, 2009**

**9:03 p.m.**

I woke from a positively restless sleep to the dingy yellowed light of a nearby streetlamp peering through the mottled window glass. Every wound in my body also woke to dull aching and I couldn't withhold the groan in my throat. The pain had only provided the illusion of subsiding with my unconsciousness, but now it sank its blunt teeth right back in me.

"Fuck." My voice was scratchy and felt like I hadn't used it in ages. Apparently I had passed out sometime from sheer exhaustion, and now my head was throbbing like it was in a vise. I tried to push myself sluggishly into a seated position, bracing myself with my right arm and my legs, and trying not to move my left side. I made it barely to my elbows but not any further before my stomach turned and my body screamed out that the strain was too much. I slumped in my position and breathed deeply, trying not to vomit.

I heard breathing other than my own too close beside me so my impulse was to snatch my arm back under the pillow where I kept my gun stashed, but it took me several long moments to even reach for it. I felt it there in its place, gripped the familiar shape of the handle, and retracted, aiming in the hazy sunlight. I blinked, my sudden move blurring my vision and knotting my stomach.

When it cleared and I was certain I wouldn't throw up, I found Matt lying sprawled on his back next to me on the narrow cot, one foot and arm hanging off the edge. He was still wearing his goggles around his neck and his boots on his feet. What was he doing sleeping in here? When he did sleep, which usually wasn't at night or for very long, he always napped on the couch. I preferred ample personal space and he knew that, he'd always known that. The only time I ever touched other people was to hurt them.

I sighed and slid the hammer carefully back in place, putting my pistol back where I'd gotten it. I hated that it felt so damn heavy to me now. I realized then that I had left the weapon in the bathroom last night, so had Matt stashed it where I liked while I slept? He always had been rather impressively insightful when it came to my mannerisms. He was extremely observant…when he was interested in what he observed. The problem with Matt was he rarely cared, and if he didn't care, he didn't devote his attention.

My head was spinning currently, so I decided to sink back down onto the pillow and let the groan that was gathering in my throat pass through my mouth. All my muscles were stiff and it felt like I hadn't moved them in weeks. I checked myself, feeling that I was still bandaged uncomfortably all over my upper torso, neck, and most of my face. In another moment I realized I had been stripped of my clothing and was only covered with a sheet. Another more careful inspection let me see that there was a table at the foot of the bed covered with various washcloths and medical supplies, including several vials and syringes. This unfamiliar sight spiked my irritation, and I lifted my right arm to notice a cotton ball taped over the bend of my elbow.

What the hell had he been doing to me without my consent? I hadn't told him to pump any drugs in me! And what's more, why did he take my clothes off?

I struggled to look over at him, still asleep. I reached up a weak hand and smacked him in the face, making him grumble and stir in his slumber. "No, damn it…shoot up! Up! Fuck…this game…cheats…" I smacked him in the head again, willing the strength to come to me. "Dodge it! My controller must be…broken. Gimme screwdriver! I'll fix it…" I smacked him yet again and he inhaled sharply before his head jerked up. "Wha?" He yawned and stretched before his eyes even opened.

"Get up," I ordered roughly, my voice still rusted and unused.

"Mello? You awake?" He rubbed his eyes and blinked a couple times, looking over at me with a single drowsy green eye. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, but you won't be," I snarled.

He sat up, yawning again, scratching his chest and then neck. "Jesus, finally… I thought you were out for good, you know that?" What was he talking about? "What time is it?" He yanked his hand-made cell phone out of his pants pocket and glanced at it. "9:07… Shit."

"How long have I been asleep?"

He yawned a third time. "Christ, Mello, gimme a second… You know you're in bad shape..."

"Just answer the question!"

He looked over at me, craning his neck down to see me still weakly supine on the mattress. "I think… I think you were in a coma, Mello."

"What?"

"I gave you some morphine so you could get some rest…"

"I never gave you permission to use that!" I hissed.

"I know, Mello, I know, and I was gonna listen…but then…you started screaming in your sleep. You passed out after we talked and for an hour you just screamed and moaned and…" he glanced away, rubbing his hair out of his face, "and cried. No matter what I tried, you didn't wake up… It was freaking me out, so I gave you some morphine. I didn't know if you were gonna wake up at all…"

Was all that true? "How long have I been out?"

"It's been…like…35 hours..."

"That long?"

"Yeah. You must've needed it, man… You didn't move again after you passed out…" He rubbed his hair once more. "I gave you morphine whenever you started screaming, and I gave you water… I did my best to keep your bandages fresh and sponge the blood off… Man, it's been hell… Glad you're finally up."

I snarled furiously, clenching both fists, wanting to be mad at him, wanting to lash out and hit him for disobeying me, but my pride stopped me. I couldn't believe I had cried in my sleep, that I had been suffering so dreadfully. I couldn't believe that in my weakness I had failed myself. I couldn't believe that I had been in a coma, that I had almost died yet again. I couldn't believe this was me, that this was happening to me. Hitting him would only make me look more defensive of my weakness, and besides…I hated to admit it, but I didn't think I could manage to put any real force behind a blow. He had done the right thing. He had looked after me this entire time. He'd even cleaned the wounds on my comatose body, never leaving my bedside. What had possessed him to muster such devotion?

"Fine," I sneered at last. "…What are you doing in here anyway?"

"I slept in here to make sure you didn't stop breathing again." I looked at him for a second or two and he looked back. Our eyes met and then he lowered his gaze to my cheek and neck. "Mello, I seriously thought you were gonna…" He shook his head. "Look, I did what I had to. It's only been a little more than a day... Nothing's been going on. I've been keeping an eye out on all your hot channels and on the net… The most that's happened with Kira is that he's started killing pretty much consistently again."

I growled. "So much time wasted…!" I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, tasting coppery blood.

"I think all your wounds are scabs now… You were bleeding for a little while and I had to keep changing the bandages over and over…but it stopped eventually. It hasn't started again." I looked down at my bandaged shoulder, seeing that nothing was bleeding through as I had expected it to. Of course, I couldn't really absorb the fact that 35 hours had gone by without my awareness. The world was still turning and I had been half-dead sprawled here on this filthy cot. Too much had been left out of my control. Even a single hour was too much to miss at this crucial point in the game. I had to get some work done soon.

My body would be in bad shape for a while, but I was still functional, had all my limbs, both eyes, full brain capacity, and so there was no reason to halt my plans or abandon my mission now that I was awake. First things first, I needed to get my hands on a member of Near's force, wherever it was, and make them talk. My spy had only provided face-shots, and with Jack's Shinigami Eyes I'd been able to find out their real names, but that was the extent of my information about them. Near never hesitated to explain anything he was certain about when asked, and he definitely never hesitated to correct other people's wrong assumptions, so I knew that his remaining team members would have heard anything he deduced out loud about Kira. They had to have learned something. I would decide finally on the most ideal candidate to interrogate and pick their brain as much as possible, and then I could make new plans to close the distance between Kira and myself.

I would need to get my hands on their detailed personnel files…which would without a shred of a doubt be highly protected in one of the U.S.A.'s secure government databases. America was the most likely place for Near to establish a team, I'd known that from the start. They had the best resources, the most renowned police and investigation forces, and no conflict of interest with Japan's police. To get through the kind of security they no doubt had fortified their info with, I required Matt's skills. I would find the team and pick the candidate today. I couldn't afford to wait, nor did I want to. There was no reason to.

"Did you get that information I asked for?" I grumbled.

"Yeah, I did what I could here," he mentioned, scratching his head, leaving his hair mussed from grease. Had he not even moved away from me long enough to shower? His face was still speckled with stubble, even thicker than it had been before. "I couldn't leave you alone here and go to the other place, so I couldn't get much… Found the obituary listings of the dead members…but that's about it."

"Shit." I closed my eyes and pondered. "…No doubt Near is working with the Japanese Kira taskforce and has direct contact with the current L… Kira is connected to them, without a doubt…and I'm sure Near knows that. Near and the new L are definitely sharing info by this point… He must be closing in…"

"If that Japanese guy is L then I'm Samus," he remarked, standing up and stretching. "And I'll tell you right now there's no way I'd look that good in a Zero Suit."

I didn't know the reference but I ignored it. "Don't forget that someone on that taskforce, or close to it, is definitely Kira, which means one of them was able to outsmart L… I don't want to believe that was possible either, Matt, but we have no choice but to accept it. Any other explanation would just serve to disgrace L's memory. No matter what, we can't underestimate them."

He nodded. "Right, right."

"Anyway, I'll bet Near will have it reported soon that the SPK has dissolved… After my organization killed all their members, he'll pretty much have to. Near will want the public to think they've broken up the Kira taskforce so he can move more freely in the shadows, without being monitored. He might even have the NEW president announce that as bait for me… They're still on the case, but after I killed most of their members…they must be having trouble advancing. Near has all of L's money though, so he'll keep pressing forward."

"Yeah, I got my hands on all the names and bios of the dead guys, but a few of the files had been conveniently pulled…and most likely encrypted. Like I said, didn't have enough hardware to track those down."

"Those would be the files Near started to pull before I took out the rest… He probably knew I had a spy in there but he didn't act quite fast enough to save them… I left a choice few alive as a trump card though… All the spy could provide for me was pictures."

"Just pictures? So you really did have somebody with Shinigami Eyes, huh?"

"Yeah, when you have them you can see anyone's name and lifespan just by looking at their face… That has to be how they got my name… I knew they were connected, but I never thought Kira and his Shinigami would actually TEAM UP with the Japanese police just to track me down… Didn't plan for that… I should have."

"So that's what really happened…? Can't believe we're actually up against REAL gods of death…"

"I thought at first that it was the guy I had using the notebook, since other people with Shinigami Eyes can look at the person and know who's using it... I figured Kira controlled him to get my name, but that isn't likely. There was no time for that, and they still would've needed my face... Jack was too stupid to betray me and make it on his own, let alone plot with Kira and the Japanese police, so that man Yagami had to have the Eyes… He seemed so straight-laced that I didn't even think of it at first…"

"But he's dead now, you said?"

"Yeah...there's no way he could've survived those wounds… But now that I'm absolutely sure Kira is connected to the Japanese police…maybe even ON it, we'll have to watch ourselves at all times…which is why I told you to cover your face, no matter what or where."

"Got it. This is some crazy shit."

"Tell me about it." I took a breath. "We'll have to head over to the other apartment downtown so you can hack into the American government's database and get me those personnel files."

"Sounds fun for a change."

"We should get going," I said, attempting to sit up again. I got to my elbows and stifled a painful groan.

"Whoa, dude," he said, turning back to me, "I don't think you should be moving around already."

"I was unaware that you could actually think," I sneered, not desiring to be further babied, especially after this horrid fiasco. "I've been bedridden for too long-I need to get some work done!" I frowned hard, which hurt my face. I exhaled in one steep breath. "I can do it." I forced myself to sit up all the way, grinding my teeth over each other.

"I could always carry you," he mentioned. I threw him a sharp glare. "…It was a joke, man."

The agony deep in my skin was getting worse every minute, lighting fire to my left side all over again. If it was this severe now I couldn't imagine how much worse it had been in my unconsciousness. I really wasn't in any condition to move, but I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to face my own ineptitude. I could hardly stand it, so I would simply have to overcome it.

"We're going, and that's that," I stated gruffly.

"Okay, just hold on a second." He left the room and came back with a bottle of water. He picked up a couple orange prescription bottles from the table at the end of the bed, looking over the labels before he emptied two pills from one of them into his palm. "Here, take these. I don't want you hemorrhaging again."

"What are they?"

"Morphine in capsule form. I don't need to inject it anymore now that you're up and kicking, more or less. Good thing, 'cause that sure was a pain in my ass. Almost broke the needles a couple times."

"I didn't need to know that, damn it!"

"Oh, sorry." He came around to the side of me.

"How the fuck did you get all those?"

"Do you really wanna know that right this second?"

I sighed. "Whatever, just give them to me." He bent down and I lifted my hand to take the pills from him, but he simply put them to my mouth himself. I hesitated a second before I opened it and let him place them inside. He then sat next to me, putting the lip of the water bottle to my mouth. I scoffed and swiped the bottle. I tipped it and drank, swallowing the pills. I drank the rest of the water out of plain thirst and threw the bottle across the room afterward. "I can't wait to see what these'll do to me."

"You'll be a little loopy in less than half an hour," he said, standing. "But it's a really small dose, so you'll still be…at least PRETTY lucid."

"Damn it…" I touched my hand to my wounded chest and flinched a little. "This doesn't hurt as bad as it could… I need to keep moving." I groaned a little. "I need to get out of here… Get moving… I'll waste away if I don't get moving again… My muscles will atrophy and I'll be a fucking invalid…"

"Sure you're ready to walk around?"

"Yes, I'm sure! Quit asking stupid fucking questions!" He snuffed out his cigarette on the bottom of his boot and tossed it away, then stood and held out his hands. "What're you doing?"

"I was gonna help you up."

"Are you mentally challenged? I'm still naked, dimwit! Get out of here! I can do it myself!"

"C'mon, man, I've seen you naked plenty of times."

My face flared, most hotly in the death glare I tossed at him. "We were KIDS! Now get the fuck out and get ready to go!"

"Okay, okay…but if I hear a loud THUD I'm coming back in here to help." He snatched up his portable game from the foot of the bed and played it all the way out, hooking the door with his toe and closing it.

"Fuck it…" I gathered my knees under the sheet, reaching over and banishing it from my lower body. I turned and set my bare feet on the cold floor, grinding my teeth into each other with the pain that flared like a tide in my nerves. Still, it didn't reach a breaking point, and I managed to push myself onto my feet, leaning my weight on my legs and still holding the headboard. Sweat broke out across my clammy body from all this sudden strain, but I would not let it defeat me. No matter what, I would not sink back onto that stained mattress. I could see drops and smudges of blood dried on the sheet, most likely from Matt changing my bandages repeatedly. I took a few deep breaths, bracing myself, and then I stood, wincing, letting my muscles protest and my head spin. I leaned a hand on the wall quickly, blacking out. I shut my eyes, urging the nausea to pass over. Thankfully, it did. My ankle hardly hurt anymore, I guess because I hadn't had any weight on it for almost two days.

Still dizzy, I went shakily over to the tiny closet in the bedroom, one step at a time. I fumbled for the knob and then latched onto the frame to crouch, doing my utmost not to pull at my wounds, for fear of reopening them. I lifted open the suitcase of fresh clothes I'd left there and dug through it with my good arm, choking back the pain still dully stabbing through my injuries. Strange, I expected everything to hurt much worse than it did… What had Near been doing in my momentary absence? Was he even further ahead? Had I forfeited my chance to win? No! I wouldn't believe it! We would go back to the other apartment right away-today! I would get those files and then track Near down as soon as possible-sooner!

I took out a change of garments, then leafed through the jackets I had hung up, finding one with a hood deep enough to help hide my face. I took out a new pair of black leather boots, noticing that my brown ones had gotten pretty melted in the fire and so were trash now. After that I took out my sunglasses that served well to conceal my eyes completely. I went back over and dropped the pile of clothes onto the bed. I desperately desired to bathe, but there was no way I could manage it by myself, I knew. I bit my tongue, not wanting to ask him for any help, especially in this situation. So I didn't ask-I commanded.

"Matt!" I called, enhancing the frustration in my voice.

"Yeah?" he said through the door after a couple seconds.

I plucked up the sheet and wrapped it around my waist, preserving some form of modesty. "Run a bath for me, now! And if you make it too hot I swear to God I'll shoot you!"

"Uh, okay…" I heard his boots clomp off and grabbed my clothes, going out of the bedroom towards the bathroom. I stuck close to the walls, every so often stopping to lean in place and catch my breath. I got dizzy every now and then, but that wouldn't do. I heard the water running and was almost there by the time he turned it off. I stepped into the bathroom and leaned against the sink, catching my air. He looked over his shoulder. "You gonna make it, man?"

"Just…shut up…for a second…" I gasped. I dropped my clothes on the countertop and clenched my fists. I stood in front of the vanity cabinet, seeing smears of my dried blood still on the edge of the sink, toilet, and floor. I lifted my head to look at myself in the mirror for the first time. My hair was disheveled and singed, darkened all over but especially sooty on the left. I suppose washing my hair had been a low priority to him. The strands were jagged from being burnt and from Matt cutting them. I could only speculate how awful my face would look beneath my tousled mane.

I began to peel off the bandages on my face, unraveling them anxiously, suddenly compelled to see how my wounds looked there. I let the bloodied, crusted bandages collect on the floor, wincing over and over again in agony as I peeled off tiny bits of temporary scabbing, releasing small rivulets of blood that pooled. I ripped them all off and stared at myself, at the absence of flesh across my face, the melted skin pooled at my eyelid and my missing eyebrow. The scabs were healed unevenly, bunched and molten on my cheek, sickening me. I was disfigured, deformed, and I found it impossible to look at myself any longer!

"Shit!" I leaned my hands on the sink, dropping my head and retching, my stomach churning grotesquely all over again. Damn it to hell! My face was ruined! I couldn't go to a hospital and risk them demanding records and photographs and identification! Surely they would contact the police after seeing I had been in an accident! I could never even entertain the idea, and so I had to accept the fact that my face could never be saved! I knew it, but still it scraped at me! Fucking shit! This couldn't ever be undone! This couldn't ever be fixed! I retched some more but nothing came out. Looking at myself made me sick to my stomach!

"Jesus, Mello…" I heard him utter.

I scoffed, dismissing my sudden display. "Don't look at me when I get in, understand?"

He sighed, scratching his head. "Yeah, yeah, even though I don't see the big deal. We got the same parts. Well, sizes may vary."

"Shut up!"

He shrugged. "That was supposed to be a joke too."

"Just do what I say, damn it! I don't need any more smartass comments out of you!" He saluted and I hesitated another second before I dropped the sheet and walked over to the tub. He held his hands out, keeping my good arm steady while I tentatively stepped over and into the water, flinching from the heat. It was only lukewarm, but still shocking on my skin. I sat down slowly, doing my best not to agitate the wounds again. When I was sitting he knelt down beside the tub, still avoiding direct contact with his eyes. "I need to clean the wounds," I barked. "Get the rest of this damn gauze off of me."

"Right." He commenced carefully peeling all the medical tape and bandaging off my torso and arm, revealing little by little the grotesque sight of the remainder of my wounds. They were even more hideous than the abominations on my face and I had to look away, gagging. The scabs were crusted all over my pectoral and shoulder, healed over in ragged trenches of discolored patchwork. I grabbed hold of the edge of the tub, needing to steady myself with the nausea that swelled up again. "…Trust me, they look a hell of a lot better than they used to," he remarked.

"Fuck! Just…hurry up, Matt! I want it covered again!"

"Okay, I'll hurry." He took a soft cloth and washed me off carefully, never scrubbing my injuries, gently cleaning the blood, sweat, dirt, and lingering ash from my skin. He then soaked a sponge with alcohol and drenched them.

I fisted my hand in his pants leg and punched the tile wall of the shower, rattling the faucets and sending gut-clenching pain through me in the process. "Son of a bitch!"

"You okay?" he asked.

I growled. "Just get on with it."

"You sure?"

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?"

"Okay, fine."

With his aid, I washed my hair as carefully as I could, shedding numerous clumps of dead, singed strands in my hands. "Shit." He helped me back out after that, getting me a towel. He tried to help with that but I shoved him away and did it myself. I dried my hair and then stepped into my black leather pants carefully, buttoning and then lacing them up. I sat on the toilet lid and had him put on fresh ointment and bandages. I withstood the pain and then he wrapped me back up again, finally barring my eyes from the horrendous sight of my burns. They felt much more comfortable on me than they had the first night. He usually learned well from his mistakes and always improved himself in everything he did. If he wanted to be, he could have been almost as clever in various things as I was instead of specializing, but he just didn't have motivation for any subject he didn't enjoy. He was destructively impatient, much more so than myself, which I had been doing my best to lessen in him to little avail.

I stood when he had finished and fastened a belt over my pants, then buckled it with my favored cross adornment. "Matt," I barked ferociously, even though he was right near me.

"Yeah?"

"Finish getting everything ready that you need to do serious hacking. We're getting that done right now, ASAP."

"Got it." Soon enough I heard various metallic shuffling and clanking. Good, at least he was being more efficient than usual. I finished dressing, zipping my vest up to just below my collarbone, allowing more room than usual so the cloth wouldn't chafe my shoulder too much. I slid on my boots and zipped them up the side, then fastened my wallet chain and threw my rosary around my neck, outside the collar of the vest. "Ready," Matt said, reappearing in the doorway with a fresh cigarette in his mouth.

"Good," I spat. I glanced in the mirror again, looking at my bandaged face through my right eye, the one that wasn't covered with gauze. I took a comb and brushed out the knots in my hair, ridding my mane of still further burnt strands. I combed my longer hair as much over the left side as possible, covering most of my eye, cheek, and temple. It was still singed in many places, so I took out a scissors and angrily snipped away all the burnt tips. My style was dilapidated now and most of the strands were jagged, but I was rid of most of the burnt patches. I was too busy to concern myself with how crappy my hair looked at the moment. I guess my only option was to leave it to grow out.

Matt watched me; I could see him in the mirror but pretended not to. He had his goggles back on and had changed into a black and white striped shirt and darker jeans. I slid on my skin-tight vinyl gloves and then came the jacket, which I left unbuttoned but threw up the fur-lined hood, letting it droop low over my brow. Last the sunglasses, which hid my eyes. It helped conceal my conspicuous bandages, and as a plus: no Kira-no matter how keen-would be able to clearly recognize my whole face.

"I need fresh bandages every day so I won't get an infection," I told him.

"I figured that. I was changing them every hour when the blood soaked through." I nodded. "…I should probably bother to shave today," he muttered, walking up to the mirror. He spread the shaving gel on his face without ever removing the cigarette from his lips. He shaved quickly with a disposable razor, missing plenty of stubble, and then dabbed on the aftershave one-handed. "There."

"Are you going to take a shower to go with that?"

"I can take one later. Thought we had to hurry…" he mumbled as he walked back out of the room. I shook my head disdainfully at his misconstrued priorities, probably for the 100th time.

He came back in and handed me a new bottle of water and a prescription bottle. "What're these?"

"Medical strength Ibuprofen. You can take two of these whenever the pain comes back. I shouldn't give you anymore morphine after today or you might get dependent on it."

"I don't get dependent on anything," I stressed, glaring at him.

He tweaked one red eyebrow. "Uh huh… And I suppose you could stop eating chocolate whenever you wanted?"

"I hate you," I barked, looking at the orange bottle. "I better be able to trust you with all these medications."

"Don't worry, I downloaded an assload of medical data…and ordered most of this shit from an official medical supply. All I had to do was steal a surgeon's identity and bingo-got a hold of his notes, his accounts, and his authority. Say hello to Dr. Hunter Simms."

I rubbed my good eye and shook my head. "Whatever works. You ready to head out?" I questioned.

"Ready whenever you are, Boss."

"Don't call me that."

I went back in the bedroom and grabbed my gun, checking the safety before I stuffed it in the inner lining of my coat. Each step I took became stronger, sturdier, and I was glad I hadn't been bedridden too long to recover my dexterity quickly. I walked into the living room/kitchen, finding him checking the ammunition in his own 9mm Beretta and then jamming it down the back of his jeans. He slipped on a tan suede vest edged with white fur over his striped shirt and secured it up all the way up to his chin, which covered a good deal of his jaw and mouth. With his long bangs and tinted goggles it was hard to tell what he looked like at all. It was satisfactory to hide from Kira, I suppose. At least my warning had gotten through his head and he had followed my advice. His gloves came next and then he removed a lighter from the vest pocket and lit up the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling and then exhaling smoke. He replaced them, jammed his portable game system into his other pocket, and grabbed the large aluminum briefcase he had on the couch.

He snatched the apartment keys from an overturned crate he used as an ottoman and then faced me. "Last chance to bum it out for a while longer. Sure you're up to traveling?"

"I can only take so many stupid questions, Matt. Let's go." I walked to the door. "Just like before: I'll go first, you wait a few minutes and then follow."

"Right." I exited, looking up and down both halls, but only an elderly woman ready to walk her dog was out, and she didn't know I existed. I walked slowly, steadily, suppressing my usually swift gait. I walked down to the ground floor, being joined for the trek on the second floor by a pair of crack-heads arguing over price. I ignored them and stepped towards the back door after they hastened away, shoving each other. I went around the back door, through the laundry room, and waited in the abandoned lot at the end of the alley where we had the vehicles parked in a garage. The fresh air was clearing my grogginess little by little, and gradually I felt confident I could manage this trip without his aid.

Matt joined me ten minutes later, approaching to see me waiting in front of the driver's side as usual. It was habit for me to drive. "Whoa, I think I should drive this time, dude," he said. "Your morphine will kick in any minute."

I frowned, but he was right, and I didn't want to chew him out at the moment. "Fine." He unlocked the passenger side first and then got into the driver's seat of the 1976 Pontiac TransAm. It was black with the firebird mural on the hood detailed in gold. I would have preferred something a little less conspicuous to drive in, however, but I suppose I was to blame for not specifying when I'd told him to "find a fast car with good storage space." When he showed up with this Muscle Car I didn't even bother asking, but he certainly seemed proud of himself. He'd probably prefer this hunk of American metal even over a pretty girl. Whenever he had excess free time he tinkered around under the hood, adding whatever improvements he could. He was a hacker, mechanic, and all around engineer. If it was artificial or mechanical he knew it backwards and forwards.

He tossed the briefcase in the backseat and turned the key. The engine roared and he stomped down on the clutch and flung it into first gear. "You forged valid plates for this thing, right?" I asked, my urge to chastise him returning quickly in my idleness.

"Yes, and insurance documents and our fake licenses. I'm not quite that stupid; L did pick me for Number Three."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just in a foul mood."

"You mean fouler than normal," he remarked as he pushed down on the gas and let off the clutch, pulling out of the garage, "because you're always in a foul mood."

"Go to hell."

He shrugged and turned down the pothole-ridden back roads of the dilapidated neighborhood, making his way onto the main streets of downtown Los Angeles. He turned on the stereo he'd installed, plugging in a green MP3 player and immediately blaring some heavily synthesized rock music. I rolled my eyes and leaned on the door, sighing as he tapped his hand on the steering wheel along with the beat. I didn't bother to remind him my head was pounding, but he figured it out in a couple minutes and turned it down a miniscule amount, muttering, "Sorry."

**November 13, 2009**

**9:46 p.m.**

It was only a 20-minute drive with the traffic this time of day, and I detested having to remind him to keep to the speed limit so we wouldn't get pulled over. I didn't need that kind of attention drawn to us. We pulled into the parking garage just after 9:45 p.m. He went ahead to the apartment to begin setting up and I would head there in about 15 minutes. We both had keys, and he would use the stairs and I the elevator. We had memorized all the camera locations in the lobby and the parking lots so we would never be caught on film.

When I walked into the room he was positioning one of three laptops he kept here on the coffee table in the living room. He'd set the briefcase he'd brought on the sofa at the foot of the bed, and now he unclipped and opened it, tossing out piles of tangled cords. He had a fourth laptop under all that, a black one, which he removed and kissed before he placed it on the mattress. I could see it was covered in stickers. He set to plugging them all into a surge protector and then jamming that into the wall.

"How long do you think this will take?" I asked.

"Before or after I'm done setting up?"

"Altogether."

He tossed off his vest, laying it over the armrest of the sofa. "We're talking about files protected by the U.S. federal government's most state-of-the art security, so…about the time it takes for a n00b to beat the final level on Daxos Siege of Fire III."

I sneered. "How the hell long is that?"

"…Two hours, maybe? That's if you don't find the secret weapons cash in Dungeon 13. That game is brutal and the final boss has five incarnations."

I shook my head with a sigh and slid off my jacket, letting myself sink onto one of the soft reclining chairs in front of the large television set. Now this was "fully furnished," but of course it cost a pretty penny. The other apartment was where we stayed most often, so we could keep as low a profile as possible in that shitty ghetto. The point was to remain incognito. This apartment was rented solely for convenience. Both apartments were under different false names, of course, and we always paid in cash.

Matt had a seemingly never-ending bank account. I'd observed him more than once withdrawing hundreds of dollars at a time at any given ATM. He had numerous pin numbers connected to dozens of digital bank accounts belonging to people who had never existed. I'd made plenty of money from my criminal enterprises, but the full brunt of my cash flow came directly from him, which he didn't seem to mind. I guess he figured he had more than enough. He spent it like he did, anyway, almost exclusively on electronics and cigarettes. He pretty much ignored his personal upkeep entirely, and just wore a few cheap articles that he swapped out every week or so. Things like that just weren't important to him, which was fine with me. It left me with more money to use in my mission.

I bit the fingertips of my gloves, feeling the small dose of morphine kick in and settle sweet euphoria over my nerves. The pain lifted like a blanket off my body and left me tingling. The aching eased, drifting out of me, allowing me to finally unclench my muscles. I was able to relax so easily it was almost unnerving, so I watched him take out a box of tools, dumping them out on the floor before he argued with the tangled mess of cords. He got them free, hooking up the black laptop he'd brought next to the desktop that sat on the table by the sofa. He unscrewed the side of the CPU and removed it. He dug around in the briefcase some more, removing an obviously modified circuit board, and then took out some copper wire. He grabbed some needle-nose pliers and twisted copper wiring around the circuit board. He flipped over the black laptop he'd brought and unscrewed the bottom, twisting a few ends of the wire into the circuitry there. Inside the desktop he pulled out the hard drive, then set up a modified wireless router between both devices. After that, he used a handful of cords to connect them to each other from the back, hardly needing time to ponder or search. Last he took out a hard drive he'd built and connected it to the desktop.

"…What are you doing?" I asked, my awareness fuzzy but intact.

"Turning these fuckers into a decryption monstrosity," he replied, and then flipped open the laptop, turning it on and letting it load. The wallpaper showed up, displaying a busty woman in a bikini leaning on a shiny Muscle Car. He clicked around and then began to type manically with his gloved fingers, still holding the same cigarette in his mouth even though only the filter was left. Streams of code began to scrawl across the screen in bright green over black. In spite of my wide range of knowledge, I was honestly clueless regarding things like this. Computer tech was not my specialty by any means, which is why I required Matt.

"Explain it to me," I said, hating the phrase, but even more hating that I was not knowledgeable of something.

"Uh, okay…but it probably sounds better in my head." He was still typing. "This laptop's one and only function is to unscramble encryptions and bust through digital security," he said distantly. "Built it myself." Unlike Near, L, and me, Matt never liked to explain things. He preferred to just do them and get them done. The WHY wasn't important to him, just the HOW. "I'm gonna rig this desktop to do the same thing with twice the capacity. Now that all memory has been replaced with my hacker's wet dream program, all I do is upload and…" He started up the larger machine, watching the screen flash before he typed again at a manic pace that was near to inhuman. "Time to start level one." Green code flowed across the desktop screen as he typed, and both machines buzzed and whirred with intensity. "Now that the program is uploaded and they're sharing memory, we're ready for action. Now I just need a code to decode." He got a fresh cigarette out of his vest, lit it, and then moved to the three silver laptops on the coffee table, connecting them all with various cords to each other. Then he plugged those into an adapter port, which he plugged into the desktop. "This works better with a direct connection…" he mumbled. He started up the three silver laptops, usurping a wireless satellite connection on them as well using his powerful router. I knew with certainty that everything he was doing was highly illegal, masterful, and absolutely impossible to trace.

I stood carefully, almost wobbly at first, but with the absence of pain I could better extend my strides. I was actually gaining substantial interest as he sat on the floor, setting one laptop on his legs and typing rapidly, accessing what looked like the outskirts of a national data bank already. He prodded about, finding a path into higher databanks, knowing his way around as if he had written the programs himself. I stood behind him, out of the way, my head still buzzing with unwitting comfort from the painkillers. He reached up onto the coffee table and started to type on the second laptop.

"Mello, could you grab my ashtray? It's on the counter, I think..." Usually he didn't make requests of me because he knew he would be ignored or reprimanded, but he needed to concentrate on his task so I didn't let it get to me. I glanced around, finding his already full ashtray, and went over to grab it. I emptied it in a trash bin first.

"Keep typing." I knelt down, able to do so without a spike of pain, and held it out for him, watching him puff and blow smoke before he tapped off the ash with one hand, never slowing the frantic motions of his other fingers and commencing with the other hand fluidly as soon as the cancer-stick was replaced in his lips. I stayed where I was, still observing his progress. "What now?"

"Hnn… So now we need to lock and load…" Typing. "Weapon Number One is a tracker," he was saying, referring to the computer in his lap. "This'll find all data related to my search, isolating the location of the encryption." He hit enter and the screen erupted in a blur of flying images as it searched the database he'd accessed for any information relating to keywords: "Kira," "SPK," "Special Provision," "International Serial Killer," "Mass Murder," "L," and "Japan."

"Good choice of keywords," I mentioned.

"Yup." He set that laptop back on the coffee table and grabbed the second one, typing a few more lines of code. "Weapon Number Two is defense," he was saying, "which means this beauty keeps anyone and everyone from detecting the search with my personally designed firewalls. I am literally invisible to any network with this, even the U. S. government's." He set it down next to the first and then knelt against the coffee table, leaning his chest over it and typing on the final silver laptop. "…And the most fun of all, Weapon Number Three…"

"Let me guess, offense?"

He nodded. "This sucker pinpoints the exact streams of code that contain or relate to the keywords and locks on them, targeting only the files that have what we're looking for and gutting them, getting them ready for some serious decryption." He reached back with one hand, not looking as he held out his cigarette, and I put the ashtray beneath so he could tap off the ash. "All three of these badasses instantaneously communicate with each other to work three times as fast. When they're done finding what we need, they send the coded info to these mothers over here…" he got up and returned to the desktop and black laptop on the table, making sure they were ready, "…where each stream of the encrypted code will be spliced and beaten down until we're in. They don't stand a chance and they'll never know anything was hacked. Total rape."

"Good, Matt." I didn't compliment him often, but considering I didn't understand the majority of what he was doing, I was impressed. Of course I would never admit it out loud. "Now how long?"

"Number One is almost done searching and Number Three is still targeting, so…" He took out his portable game and laid on the sofa, sprawling on his back and sticking his boots up on the armrest where he crossed his ankles. "Level one is over and we're on level two. I have time to finish Mission Six, definitely." He started up the game and in moments his thumbs were tapping away as smoke swirled upwards. I could hear the sounds of shooting and smashing coming from the small gadget as the five computers roared beyond, and I rolled my eyes beneath the lids. As long as he got me what I needed, I would overlook him screwing around for today.


	4. Chapter 3

**+Part 3+**

**November 13, 2009**

**11:16 p.m.**

I went to the kitchen and dug through the fridge, finding a stack of chocolate bars I'd left behind from last month, before I'd returned to the Mafia's downtown hideout. I grabbed one and then took a moment alone to lean on the kitchen counter, trying to ease my muscles out of their straining, trying to clear my head of its wrenching dizziness. I needed to find where the SPK headquarters was located and pressure a member, absorb the information I wanted, and get my photograph back from Near. Right now, as I leaned over the sink, thinking maybe I would be sick again, all that sounded just plain exhausting. I didn't want to wait, but if I pushed myself too hard, all of my work up until this point would mean nothing.

I returned to the living room, tearing off the foil wrapper on the chocolate bar just when an explosion vibrated the device in Matt's hands and the third computer finished loading. "Time to tackle the boss level," he said when I stood next to the bed. He sat back up and knelt in front of the desktop, watching as a bar ran across the screen from the finalized file transfer. He saved his game and plucked the cigarette-which was the fifth he'd had in the last hour-from his mouth, blowing more smoke. "And three…two…one…" The file transfer completed and ran, so he tossed his game on the sofa and twined his fingers, popping all his knuckles before he began typing. "Now for the actual fun part."

"Which is?"

"Keeping up with the decryption. Those three are just the drones, but this comp is the mother ship. The files are transferred, but if I let her go, she'll get too carried away with the hacking and we'll overload, which will either alert the initial security, or force dump all the data-or both. I have to decode the big stuff manually so that shit doesn't happen."

"You built the hard drive and hacking program from scratch, didn't you?"

"Yup. Piece by piece and byte by byte." His voice never changed, even when he was having "fun." It was always placid and disinterested.

"I remember Wammy's House using your program on their computers." I snapped off a piece of the chocolate in my hand. "Couldn't you modify this to filter automatically?"

"I could, but sometimes computers are too accurate for their own good. I like making sure for myself." Like me, and like L. His eyes scanned at uncanny speed, the fingers of one hand typing and the other clicking with the wireless mouse. He brought up piece after piece of useless code, disguised by the encryption to assault hackers with viruses so they could be detected. We didn't have to worry over that, I knew, but we did have to be certain at the end that the information we came up with turned out to be the real thing. Somehow he could recognize particular streams of computer code even though it was all written in binary. Ones and zeroes flew across the screen rapidly, but he never slowed.

"You can read binary, Matt?"

"Easy as English," he muttered. "I could take the time to translate the code into letters, but that would just give the security more time to discover me. No reason for that." He plucked out the groupings that made up false codes and discarded them, then moved on, ceaselessly. He was just kneeling in front of the keyboard, his shoulders hunched. He always seemed to insist on lounging in odd positions. Also like L. I grabbed the rolling leather desk chair and kicked it behind him. It smacked into him and he just moved to his feet and sat down on it, not taking his eyes off the screen or his fingers off the keys. "Thanks," he mumbled, and I barely heard him. He rolled his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue, the onslaught of streaming data shining off the orange lenses of his goggles. "Okay, okay," he said, blowing smoke, "encryption is decoded and…we've got it. Time to fight the boss. There should be a couple firewalls, a few devastating viral spybots… No problem."

I cracked off four more bites of chocolate as he typed, moving between the keyboard and laptop. "Through the first firewall easy," he said. He typed for a few long minutes. "…And…the second one…down."

I watched over his shoulder as he worked, fascinated as I always had been by his skill. His prowess was without flaw and yet everything was a game to him. Since he was a kid he'd been glued to those game consoles, always getting his hands on the latest models, and the only punishment that sort of worked when he misbehaved was having them taken away. Of course, soon enough, he just built his own, or illegally downloaded whole game libraries onto one of several restricted computers at the Institution. If he got caught, he just reprogrammed the machines to re-write all input in curse words so the House systems would be frozen up and the caretakers would have to relinquish their grips; only he could fix the problems he made. It was our earliest bond, that we were always being scolded together, always ending up in the detention hall at the same time. Once, he rewired the security cameras to play back an endless repeat of internet pornography and we snuck out to make more trouble...

Since we met I had always been fascinated by his proficiency as I had never been fascinated by any other human being before, aside from L. Of course, I refused to admit it to myself at first, and I had still never admitted it out loud to him. I knew my way around computers and electronic equipment, but I was nowhere even close to Matt's league in this respect. No one I'd ever heard of was even remotely close. I hate being outdone, but Near couldn't match these abilities either, and so I had stopped resenting Matt for being better at it.

We probably became true friends because of the fact that Matt couldn't bear Near's company any more than I could. That had been our game for a long while, often being punished together for alienating or picking on Near, but once L took notice of us, taught the three of us personally, oversaw our progress, we became the closest we'd ever been. In the months before L chose his heirs, I knew I had never been more comfortable with anyone else in my lifetime than I was with Matt. He never questioned me or demeaned me or complained when I yelled or berated him. All the other children avoided me or were afraid of me, and that was just fine with me. But Matt alone understood me then, quietly accepted me, shared my company when no other Wammy children would. With L's decision to make me or Near his successor, he had sealed the fate that pitted Near and I against each other and left Matt trailing behind. I don't think he'd ever really wanted to succeed L, to be placed in such a high position of authority and responsibility, and so he faded quietly, never protesting, and only continued to hone his skills as much as he could before I heard of him leaving.

He just snuck out one night, rerouting all the security systems' power and shutting down the Institution for two whole weeks so he could escape without a fight or a hint of detection. He'd only been only thirteen then and I had no idea where he was planning to go or do. He hadn't said a word to me. I'd left not so long after, for different reasons, but once I heard rumors about the mysterious online hacker who'd stolen thousands of funds from ten separate high-security American banks and businesses without a trace, I knew it was him and tracked him down. Only I could have done it, because only I knew him so well. He hadn't acted surprised to see me again after about four years, but I had never seen him truly surprised, until he saw my condition last night, that is.

His voice broke me out of my recollections. "And four…three…two…one… Game over," he said, ceasing his typing dynamically and leaning back in the chair. The screen stopped flashing code and settled on a single window. He clicked along it and brought up a folder. "Classified above Top Secret… Official personnel files of the remaining SPK members…" He clicked it open, browsing through it quickly. "Looks like we got it all. Photographs, names, locations, birth and employment records…even blood types. Pwned."

"Current places of residence?"

He clicked around. "Yup."

"Excellent, Matt."

"No doubt." He jammed a USB drive in the desktop port and uploaded the SPK folder onto it. After that, he deleted all backup files on his machines, wiping the entire history spotless, and tore out the modified circuit board. He replaced the old hard drive and closed up the CPU, shutting it down. He unhooked the laptop and wiped it clean also, closing and kissing it again before he unhooked the rest and moved to the desktop in the bedroom. I followed him, finishing off my chocolate. He jammed the USB drive in the computer and started it up, loading the files. "You can look through them all you want." I nodded and sat down at the desk, doing exactly that. He brought me another bar of chocolate and I took it as he sat on the bed and started with his handheld game again.

I tore the candy open and took a bite as I browsed through the files of the few remaining SPK members. "Matt, how easy was it to hack into the regular SPK data base and get the dead members' info?"

"You mean the general personnel bank that wasn't officially encrypted by the federal government yet?"

"Yeah."

"Easy as hell. I could do it in my sleep."

"So what you're saying is, only YOU could have found this information I'm looking at right now. No one else on earth could have broken through what you just did."

"Right, no one else on earth. Unless they ever move it to someplace else with less security, that is." He kept playing his game as he talked. "But that right there, no one else."

"Good. So Kira probably found out about all the dead members whose faces and names were on the regular data base, if he even bothered, but he definitely doesn't have these." I looked through them, seeing that only four members remained, including Near. I had left these three alive virtually at random…but it seems Near had their files encrypted for his own particular, personal reasons I couldn't hope to guess... Rester was a large, imposing man who had astounding credentials in virtually every area; Gevanni was younger, eager, and already an excellent spy and marksman, and there was one more person…which I hadn't lent much thought to at the time. I skimmed the photographs and bios, contemplating on whether or not to go with my gut impulse. "I left a random woman in the SPK…" I said aloud. "Should I go with her? I'd planned on it from the start, just as common sense... She's probably the best route."

Matt leaned down over the desk in interest, placing one hand on my chair. "Codenamed Halle Lidner, but her real name is Halle Bullock, huh?"

"Former CIA special forces agent, black belt in three styles of martial arts, served the President in the Secret Service..."

"She's hot," he commented, analyzing her photos.

"She'll be the easiest to get the information I need from, especially compared to the other two. Even in this state, I could overpower her if she tried anything, and she'll be more susceptible to intimidation."

"That's pretty sexist," he remarked.

"Yes, but it's usually always true. Even if she's trained, I'm still better. Now, when should I confront her?"

"I'd like to CONFRONT her, y'know?"

I grimaced. "Don't give me any clarification," I growled.

"It's no fair. You get all the fun jobs."

"What you call fun I call irritating." I scanned her information again. "Single, 27 years old, no children, no history of extended absence or personal injury… She'll do." I snapped off a large piece of the sweet confection in my hand. "Matt."

"Yo."

"I need you to get me the blueprints of this woman's house and satellite pictures of the surrounding area. I want every detail of where she lives, down to the very last nail in the wall. I also want everything you can find me about her daily schedule-where she shops, eats, what she drives, what hours she's at home-everything."

"You'll have it in no-time." He left the room again and I brooded over the screen, plotting, already feeling better in mind and body. This was the positive outlook I'd needed. I heard him typing away again shortly, and then obnoxious industrial rock music blared from the other room and that was all I could hear. I tuned it out, continuing what I was doing, memorizing all the information so it could be destroyed soon. It didn't take him even 30 minutes before he returned to my side, jamming another USB drive into my computer. He brought up the files, having sorted them by content. "Okay, this is anything and everything I could find on her." He blew smoke against the screen and it billowed. "She's got a hell of a great body. Found some pictures taken of her at the beach by some tabloid a few years back, when she was still an agent for the President." He pulled them up to show me before I could stop him. She was lounging on a towel in a plain black bikini and shades, nothing else.

"Would you go away?" I snarled. "Drool over her some other time when I'm not busy."

"Maybe you should let me interrogate her while you recover," he suggested.

"THAT would go over well," I remarked. "You don't know shit about how to talk people down."

He shrugged. "Maybe you'll get a chance to see her naked. Lucky bastard."

"Get the hell out of my face, Matt!"

"Okay, okay, I'm gone. Need anything else, Boss?"

"Don't call me that, and no, not right now." He left, going back to his games and his music.

**November 13, 2009**

**11:52 p.m.**

It appeared as though Near and his taskforce were located in New York City. The spy I'd bribed had only made contact over the phone and I had wired his money through an online bank account, so I'd had no idea where he was while we were doing business. He'd preferred it that way, but he'd been easy enough to dispatch with the murder notebook.

Matt and I would definitely have to relocate to New York ASAP in order to advance in the case. I would need to manipulate Near and his team into drawing out the Japanese taskforce, because doubtless Kira was among them, and the new L was definitely in direct contact with Near. We'd need equipment transportation and airplane tickets in the next couple hours, and Matt got to work on that once I ordered it. The money was wired through one of his many obscure global bank accounts. We would be ready to leave in a few hours after everything was packed and preparations were made, and after a change of bandages and some more pain meds my mood would be much improved.

I went up first this time and he followed fifteen minutes later. I lowered my hood once I was back inside the apartment and exhaled, feeling the tingling pain as a constant presence all through my flesh. It wasn't as bad as before, but still prickling, and the rest of my limbs were still aching and fatigued, especially after lying in bed unconscious for so long and then walking around. The remnants of the morphine were wearing off and made me feel consistently groggy. I took off my jacket and sat down on the living room chair, just relishing in the ability to rest my muscles for a while. I took a dose of Ibuprofen and chugged the water, checking the clock.

I told Matt we couldn't waste any time, so over the next couple hours we began to pack up the lighter stuff, he storing all his computer and gaming equipment in various aluminum suitcases and boxes. I packed my clothes and personal computers in my suitcase and also packed a duffel bag full of all our weapons and tossed the luggage in the living room with all the equipment. He had a single duffel bag of clothes and that was it. He always wore the same pair of boots and the same kind of pants and shirts. At least in many simple ways he was very much like L.

Once everything but a change of clothes and bandages was packed, I told him to go over and start packing up the larger computer equipment at the other apartment, since that was all we kept there. "Guess I'll get some more stuff while I'm out too," he said, replacing his vest and lowering his goggles. "I'll get a bunch more gauze and antiseptic and shit, and try to find some of your chocolate at a couple shops across town."

"Pick me up some food while you're out."

"That's right, you haven't eaten in a while, man. What do you want?"

"I don't really care…but it better be hot when you get back."

"I got it covered."

He lit a fresh cigarette and left, and only a few minutes later I heard the Muscle Car rev to life and peel out behind the building. Tired, I went over to the sofa, swiping the various empty beverage cans off of it and laid down. I flipped the TV to an international news station, hearing nothing particularly interesting as I let myself go limp with rest. Some news anchor was discussing how crime rates continued to plummet etcetera, etcetera… I drifted in my own body, seeking escape from the pain that hardly ceased its burning even with the medication.

Next thing I knew I was staring up into his goggles. "You alive?" he questioned, poking me in my good cheek. I shoved his face away irritably. "Guess so." I sat up and he came around and set down the bags he had. "I got you a ton more clinical-strength Ibuprofen and some water. It seems to be working pretty good if you can nap on the couch. Plus, I don't have to order it illegally."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"I only found one other store with your brand of chocolate. I didn't want to buy it in bulk just in case, so I only got a handful."

"Good idea."

"We can probably order some online when we get to New York." He took out a handful of four foil-wrapped bars of my ideal brand. "Hope this'll last you the trip."

"It has to." I sat up and took them as he leafed through the other bags.

"Just gauze and shit left in here. I bought enough to last us another week or so."

"You got the plane tickets?"

"Yeah, online at the other place. Cost a fortune too, not that I'm running low on fortunes."

"You got separate flights as a precaution, right?"

"Yeah." He took the digital receipt from his jeans pocket and unfolded it. "Your flight leaves at…9:00 in the morning, and mine leaves at 11:00. I'm going to drop the vehicles off at storage before we leave."

I nodded, thinking it over. "As soon as I get to New York I'll rent us another shitty apartment to hide out, and later we'll rent another in relative closeness to the SPK. If my plans work out…the Japanese taskforce will eventually show up, so we'll rent another near them when the time comes."

"Got it." He came around to hand me a bottle of water so I could swallow more pills, and I did so gladly. He then brought over and opened up two pizza boxes. "I got supreme for you and pepperoni for me."

"At least you remembered SOMETHING."

**November 14, 2009**

**7:57 a.m.**

I airmailed our arsenal of weapons illegally through an anonymous criminal operation I still had ties with through the Mafia. I paid off the apartments under one of my aliases, Mason Tennant, and then bribed a shipping company to deliver our luggage overnight. After that I lay back on the couch and flipped through the static-distorted channels that remained after he'd unhooked his stolen satellite. I sent Matt to call me a taxi and I drifted off again after another dose of meds, being rudely awakened minutes later by his boots stomping down on the hardwood hallway. He leaned both arms on the back of the sofa, looking down at me.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Just fine."

"You're getting me to where I'm worried to leave you alone for even a minute, man."

I scoffed. "You have no reason to be concerned. If I can't handle this, then what's been the point of everything I've planned? Forget it and concentrate on the future. I keep telling you to…"

"Yeah, I know-'think ahead.' I got it." He puffed and blew smoke slowly into the air. "You should definitely get some sleep on the trip."

"I can't just fall asleep anywhere," I sneered.

"I can."

"I know. As lazy as you are, it's not surprising."

He shrugged. "Well, you should head out in a few to catch your flight."

"Change my bandages first." He did so and then left me to adjust my hair in the mirror, trying to make it cover my facial bandages as much as possible. "Don't forget to take the vehicles to storage when you leave," I stressed as I came back out in the living room. "Somewhere out of the way, and don't let anyone get a good look at you. Be careful of surveillance cameras too." I dug out some sunglasses to put on, which mostly covered the bandages on my eye.

"You said Shinigami Eyes work even for camera footage?" he asked.

"Yeah, any clear picture of a person's face... Sketches or paintings don't work, but you can just look at a photograph or video footage, as long as you can see the whole face-enough to recognize them. It has to be relatively recent though, recent enough to where their appearance hasn't been drastically altered..."

"You mean, like, if you looked at some 60-year-old man's baby picture...it wouldn't work?"

"I'm pretty sure it wouldn't, because it's such an unrecognizable change. You also can't go by eyes alone, or lips."

"Wow..." He shrugged. "No sweat then. I'll head out as soon as I'm done with this game." He sat on the couch, whipping out his portable game system again. "Two missions left." I shook my head and went over to my chair, picking up my jacket from it. "Oh, wait," he said. "Almost forgot."

"What?"

He pulled something out of his vest pocket and handed it to me. In the flickering light given off by the TV I could see it was a small orange flip-phone with raised keys and a bizarre design. It resembled the latest high-tech prototypes from Japan that weren't even on the market yet, so he'd obviously built it himself.

"Made it for you at the other place," he told me as his game whirred to life. "It's just like mine; it's untraceable, unable to be called by anyone other than those you give the number and code to, and if you call anybody anywhere the number will be restricted. It's invisible. You might want to leave the security code on when you're not using it, just in case."

"Good thinking, Matt. This will definitely come in handy."

"Figured as much." His thumbs began tapping away, accompanied now and then by shots and beeps. "Just speed-dial one to call my phone, but the number's in there. My security code is L-I-N-K, just in case. The number for yours is 666-766-877, and the security code is Z-E-L-D-A." He grinned stupidly while he played and I knew he had made a joke at my expense, but I didn't get the reference so I didn't bother to chastise him.

"Okay. I'm going now, so I'll see you in New York."

"Got it, Boss."

"Damn it, Matt!"

"Sorry, sorry… See ya later…" He trailed off, his goggled eyes glued to the screen with an unbreakable force. He was hopeless, and I was extremely exasperated, so I left it alone and threw on my jacket, pulling the hood up and heading for the door. I opened it and the familiar din of outside cars speeding and thudding with bass over the decaying streets became louder instantly. In the background, I could still hear his thumbs tapping before I shut the door behind me.

**November 14, 2009**

**8:51 a.m.**

I took the taxi to the airport and went through the proper channels. It was approaching 9:00 and my flight was finally ready to board. I had no carry-ons with me of course, but on my person I had the phone Matt had given me, my four bars of chocolate and a switchblade carefully concealed in the rubber sole of my boot to avoid detection. I tried not to look suspicious, but my face was still obviously bandaged despite my efforts, covering my left eye and most of my cheek, and people tended to stare at me anyway because of the way I dressed. I kept the hood up at all times, so even if I was recognized at a glance on the security cameras, it would still be impossible to see my actual whole face on them. Kira needed a whole face, not just a chin, I was sure. I would take no chances regarding that.

As I was approaching the terminal where my flight was being boarded, getting in the end of the line, my inner jacket vibrated and beeped twice. I removed my new phone from the pocket and walked discreetly away from the swarming crowd, leaning against a pillar. I flipped it open and spoke within my jacket hood.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing much," he said, and beyond his voice I could distinctly hear the tapping and blipping of his game. He must have started a new one already.

"I'm about to get on the plane, Matt," I said curtly.

"They were just talking about Kira on TV."

"And?"

"Seems he's slowed down his killing for a while. His usual consistency is dropping."

I frowned. "But why? He's got both notebooks back…"

I pondered. It was plausible…if the Japanese taskforce were keeping watch over each other…then Kira couldn't move freely... But now that he didn't have to worry over someone else having a murder notebook, he could go back to concentrating on his crimes, couldn't he? He'd done it before. I found it hard to believe that he could openly use the notebook he'd stolen back from me WHILE the Japanese taskforce had it in their possession. Plus, I was certain the Shinigami I'd talked to, Sidoh, had said he came to take his notebook back… Had he taken it back to where it came from? If that was the case, then another of my suspicions was positively confirmed: Kira must have another notebook hidden-being used by a second party under his wing or his control. So did that mean that his second was also unable to move now? No doubt the Japanese taskforce was constricting their guard after the notebook incident with me. Perhaps Kira would be held up for a while…

Matt had given me fairly substantial confirmation of all my deductions so far. But knowing Kira, he would start killing again or else find another second soon enough-one that could move freely-and most likely wield the Shinigami Eyes. I had to close in as soon as possible.

"Alright. Anything else, Matt?"

"Not really, just thought you'd want a heads up on the news."

"I have to catch my flight now," I said, glancing over. "The last passengers are boarding."

"Later." I closed the phone and stuffed it back in my jacket, approaching the loading door and handing the clerk my ticket.

She stared at me briefly, blinking it away and then smiling politely. "Have a nice flight, Mr. Dering," she told me.

I nodded and walked in, finding my seat was next to a mother with a child at the window. Damn wonderful. I resisted the urge to growl and sat on the aisle seat next to them, battling to overlook the evident fact that the child was already staring at me. She was five or six at the most, with pigtails and pink overalls. I kept my hood up and my shades on, hearing her tell her mother that something was wrong with my face. She told the girl to be nice and look out the window, which she did temporarily as the plane took off and seatbelts had to be fastened. Once we were airborne she leaned over again, gawking at me. Her mother shook her head but the girl wouldn't be swayed.

"What's wrong with your face?" she asked, rather loudly.

Her mother grabbed her and told her to shush harshly, shoving a pink Nintendo DS in her hands. Thankfully she was distracted completely now and I wallowed in the irony of it.

The mother leaned to me. "I'm sorry for her," she said earnestly. "It's her first plane trip."

"It's nothing," I said to her.

"Are you on your Thanksgiving vacation?" she asked, for some reason feeling the need to make small talk. "We're going to visit her father in Texas for the holiday."

"That's nice," I replied, feigning politeness and wishing this woman would realize my disinterest and stop talking to me.

My hopes were dashed and she continued to chat with me about various meaningless nothings, to which I replied every so often with short, ambiguous replies. I ate through half a bar of chocolate impatiently until she asked if I had recently had surgery, and if that was the reason for the bandages on my face. I was fed up and told her to leave me alone with a vicious glare, to which she blinked in flustered offense and promptly complied with. I asked the flight attendant for some water and meds, and then popped more Ibuprofen before I finished the candy as slowly as possible.

We landed in Dallas that afternoon and I was forced to wait another hour to board the next flight bound for Chicago. Matt would be in the air right now, so I decided to check in on him. I grabbed a newspaper someone had left in the lobby and stood out of the way at the edge of an indoor fountain. I folded the paper over and skimmed the words, flipping open my new phone and entering the code letters, then speed-dialing one. If Matt had constructed our phones by hand then they would definitely work from this distance with no static or interference. I held it to my ear and listened to the odd resounding dial tone before it clicked.

"How's it going?" I asked, not waiting for him to speak.

"Good, I guess," I heard him murmur, hearing tapping and beeping in the background. "Flight wasn't delayed, if that's what you mean. I'll be in Dallas in about three hours."

"I'm already in Dallas and about to head for Chicago. Call me when you finally get to New York and I'll tell you where to meet me. I should be able to find an apartment quickly enough."

"Gotcha, Boss." I sighed, starting to become resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to stop calling me that. It would be less grating to stop insisting. "Hey, there's this kid across from me with Grand Theft Auto on his PSP," he said to me. "Remind me to get that in New York."

I exhaled irritably. "You are inconceivable," I barked.

"What? It's a game where you steal, join gangs, and shoot thugs. Reminds me of you."

"Funny," I remarked, and hung up on him. I sat in the back corner table at one of the airport cafes and enjoyed my second bar of chocolate behind the newspaper. When I finished it I had some tea, feeling my last dose of Ibuprofen wear off. I finally boarded my flight, bought a new dose to tide me over, and eventually arrived in Chicago after 8:00 p.m. without incident. As soon as possible, I hopped on the next flight bound for New York City.


	5. Chapter 4

**+Part 4+**

**November 14, 2009**

**9:25 p.m.**

I landed in New York and picked up a real estate paper immediately, browsing for the cheapest possible apartments I could find. If it was cheap in New York, it was most likely shit. Perfect for laying low. I memorized a few prospects and rode around in a taxi, looking through some varying degrees of ghettos and rundown properties that no one bothered to improve anymore. I found a possible three-room rat's nest in Chinatown. It was in a good location not facing the street and there were several abandoned lots nearby, complete with enough furniture to maintain us.

I put a down payment and a month's rent in the sleazy landlord's paws and went inside, taking off my jacket. I checked my bandages and they were holding up fine. I didn't like not having my gun, but even I wouldn't have been able to get it through the stranglehold of American airport security. It was hidden in a secret floor compartment of a fellow Mafia member's private jet along with the rest of our arsenal, which would hopefully arrive by tonight. My criminal contacts would be calling my regular cell phone when they arrived, and I would meet them at a rendezvous point to collect my things and then most likely dispose of that phone.

I put my jacket back on, moved my switchblade from my boot to my pants pocket, and then left the apartment again to buy a motorcycle and helmet. I preferred the small size and maneuverability the vehicle offered and made it a point to always have one wherever I was. I drove it to a nearby restaurant and ate in the most secluded corner booth. I only got slightly dizzy on the trip, so I decided I wouldn't drive for very long periods until I no longer required the pain meds.

I took another dose of Ibuprofen with my tea, and Matt finally called me as I was finishing my plate. I requested my check and answered the phone, "Hey."

"Yo," he said.

"Are you here yet?"

"Yeah, I'm at the airport. Some shit was delayed so I was stuck there for a while."

"I found us a place in Chinatown. Get over here and then call me and I'll give you the address."

"Okay." I returned to the apartment and he called as I was walking in the door. I gave him the address and he was there soon enough, knocking five times as a signal that it was him. We'd established that simplistic system long ago. I checked the peephole anyway and he was slouching outside, a cigarette burning away in his lips.

"Hey," he said as I let him in. He only had a messenger bag with him. "You doing okay, man?"

"Fine," I answered. "Once the rest of our things arrive I can start with the definitive planning."

"I meant your wounds, but whatever."

"As long as nothing reopens I'll be fine."

"Hope you don't get mugged then." I scoffed. "No offense, Mello, but you look like an easy target at a glance."

"Screw off."

He shrugged. "I'm just saying to watch your back. I've lived here before and it can get pretty wild, especially in a neighborhood like this. I know you can defend yourself, but the psychos don't."

"So you've done…'business' here before?"

"Oh yeah."

"What possessed you to become a thief in the first place?"

"Well, I needed money," he answered practically, "and I sure as shit wasn't gonna flip burgers, even if I'd been old enough to when I left the House. Robbing rich people sounded like a good alternative." He hopped up onto the kitchen counter to sit and play his game "When I started out it was a real thrill. I came to America because it has the best security and went from city to city, scoring off the biggest banks and companies I could find. It was fun for a while but then it got boring, like everything else does. I kept going, just to hit an even two mill, and then you showed up out of nowhere telling me L was dead."

"It was difficult for even me to track you down."

"No kidding." His thumbs tapped away as his breath emitted silvery fog. "I cover my tracks so well even the FBI can't find me."

"The FBI doesn't know you."

"But you do," he said, almost making it a question.

I leaned against the cabinet across from him. "Well enough to find you when I needed to."

"So you really do need me," he said, leaving it an open-ended statement again. He wasn't looking at me, just at the screen.

"Of course-I couldn't hack into all this shit by myself, and it's pretty much senseless having one person to work an operation this complex. What if I needed to tail two separate people at once?"

"Every honcho needs an errand-boy."

I frowned at him so deeply it hurt my face. "What, are you complaining now after all this time?"

"Nah, I'm not complaining, just stating a fact. If I had problem with being your errand-boy, Mello, I wouldn't have agreed to come with you, and I sure wouldn't have agreed to put my life on the line just to help you out."

"Why did you come with me, anyway, besides avenging L? Were you that bored? I can't imagine you enjoy risking your life everyday just by existing near me."

He shrugged. "I don't mind. Like I said, nothing ever stays fun. The only thing that was ever fun all the time was hanging with you, so I decided what the hell, I'll risk my ass for you."

I blinked in dry shock. Was he serious? He usually was, even if the subject matter wasn't. "…Good for you then," I said finally, not liking the silence I allowed to stretch between us, "because we very well might up dead before this is over."

He shrugged again. "As long as it's fun all the way there. I've always done your bidding, and we've always had fun, so why change things up now? No reason to."

"As long as you don't get second thoughts or question my orders, I don't see why your 'fun' would stop."

"Epic." More silence, other than that godforsaken tapping. Tapping. Explosions. Tapping. Beeps.

I decided to test the sincerity of his complacency immediately. "Change my bandages," I demanded coolly.

He tapped a few seconds longer and then saved his progress. "Okay." He hopped down off the counter, leaving the portable system there. "Where's the bathroom?"

I stripped to my pants and he removed the old gauze and dug out fresh supplies from his bag. He put on the disinfecting ointment and wrapped me back up. I hated to look at the wounds, but they were scarring over just fine and showed no sign of infection. The healing tissue around the edges of the thick scabs was a horribly discolored shade of pink, which was a good sign but still grotesque. Of course, it was a large improvement over open sores and charred burns. I was definitely back in functional shape-not at my very best, but much closer than a couple days ago. I could pretty much move without sharp pain; there was just a deep ache in my wounds and all the muscles around them. I would be straining myself for a while, but it was definitely bearable.

**November 15, 2009**

**8:16 a.m.**

Our luggage arrived and he picked it up, then we unpacked and he got to work setting up the computer equipment, hacking wireless internet, and getting his network online. The apartment came with a few pieces furniture; one of my requirements so that we didn't have to look any more conspicuous than necessary by going out and buying trucks full of furnishings. We did however need groceries and basic living supplies, so he took a taxi to buy some.

I brought up the SPK files on my computer and began going over the layout of the member Halle Lidner's apartment again. I decided it would be the best idea to break in after dark, just before she arrived home for the night. I would await her in the main bathroom, the one with a shower. If Near had instructed his members to install cameras, her being the only woman would trump that surveillance in the bathroom. It was a stupid, unspoken rule all over the world, but being gentlemanly never got any man anywhere, and besides which, Near was childish in that way. There might still be bugs, but I knew that after getting home from working all day, any woman would sooner rather than later go to the bathroom for a shower and a freshening up. I could put my gun to her head and make her shut her mouth while I searched for bugs, and then keep her in that room to interrogate her quietly without worry of Near's surveillance.

Matt returned an hour or so later with sacks full of junk-food, beer, orange soda, and cartons of cigarettes. He wasn't yet the legal age to buy alcohol in America, but of course he had fake I.D. for every occasion.

"This is your idea of essentials?" I asked, looking through the bags.

"Yup."

At the very least he'd bought soap, towels, and bathing supplies. A couple minutes later two of the Asian janitors trotted up, toting the strangest couch I'd ever seen and then setting it down in the living room. I was about to angrily protest, but Matt slipped them each a twenty and they thanked him and left.

"What the hell is this?" I demanded, glaring at it. It was red leather couch with studs holding it together, complete with cup holders, magazine racks, disc storage slots, and a built-in recliner on one end.

He plopped himself down on the side with the recliner, stretching out and lounging on it. "It was on sale," he mentioned.

"It should have been lit ON FIRE," I remarked.

"You should talk about taste," he remarked, standing back up. "Your pants may as well be poured on, Princess."

I growled under my breath. Matt had never been afraid to insult me, which for some reason I allowed in him. He was perfectly at ease expressing his discomforts or opinions to me, even if they were offensive, and was never afraid of my wrath. Only he and L were so openly challenging of me, and it was only in him and L that I tolerated it. I had never quite figured out why I let Matt speak to me the way he did, often with outright mocking. Even back when we were kids, I never let anyone else affront me the way he did, and he did it with such nonchalance and no hesitation. I had to get accustomed to it, of course, after many futile attempts at stomping it out.

"Call me Princess again and see what happens to you," I warned menacingly.

"Sorry." He shrugged. "…Besides, if I'm going to sleep on a couch, it may as well be a bitchin' couch." He moved it over in front of the TV, then put the banged up Chinese coffee table before it and set up the laptops on its scratched surface, plugging them in. He then set up my desktop on the kitchen bar counter. There were cords looping and coiling everywhere all over the floor by the time he started to mess with the television.

I watched him tinker around for a while, getting us free satellite again, using his personal "box" which ripped it off without detection. I finally took my suitcase of clothes into the bedroom and left it next to the bed, which had a discolored brass headboard and lumpy mattress.

"I don't suppose you bought sheets or pillows," I mentioned to him when I went back out.

He was already hooking up a couple game platforms to the television and he hardly halted his endeavor to answer me. "Forgot about that, since I'm the one bumming it on the couch all the time."

"Well you'll have to pick some up today then. I don't want to spend every night sprawled on that filthy bare mattress. You got that?"

"Got it, Boss." He really didn't mind following my orders, and that was perfectly fine with me.

I sat back down on the armchair behind my computer screen and he sat across from me on his new couch, tossing off his vest. The light from his laptops shone in the dark chamber, since most of the windows were boarded over or smeared with graffiti and let in no outside illumination. It didn't hinder him in the least, even with those goggles on, and soon he was channel surfing on the TV by ear as he continued to type on the laptop. He stopped on a drifting race competition and set aside the remote, then lit up a new cigarette and cracked open a beer. He sat back for a minute, smoking and drinking, I guess letting whatever he was opening load. He glanced at me and then offered me an orange soda, knowing I didn't like to drink alcohol because it affected my mind. I took it and opened it.

He lifted his goggles onto his head after he chugged a can and started a new one. I was hardly watching the television, knowing he couldn't resist ripping off hundreds of channels for the thing as soon as he saw it. He had two laptops and my desk machine already up in this home, all hooked up and running off wireless internet masterfully usurped by his monstrous router. He glanced at the TV now and then as he clicked and typed.

"Wanna play Subterranean Combat Ultimate? Might help you relax for a while," he said to me in the half-dark.

"No," I replied, flipping through satellite photos of Lidner's condo. It looked like there was a way to slip along the backside of the buildings instead of strolling down the pathways. I didn't want too many bystanders catching sight of me there…

"But I made you an account and everything," he insisted.

"Are you serious?" I asked, glancing back at him.

"Yup. You are officially registered as BossmanNumber01."

"You asshole." He grinned at me briefly. I sighed. "Fine."

He lifted one of the laptops and loaded the game onto it for me. He set it on a box in front of me and I sighed again before I scooted to the edge of my chair and looked the screen over. He linked up the two laptops wirelessly, and it showed up on the starting menu that there were two accounts for this team. He handed me an earpiece and I put it on as he hooked up the attachable joystick. He set up his own station, slipping the earpiece in his ear and checking everything.

"Can you hear it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, we're online with other players from different teams, but I'm Deus_ex_Machina and you're on my team, so follow me."

"Whatever."

"You want a rundown of game play and buttons?"

"I'll figure it out."

"Okay. Just don't shoot me."

"Don't tempt me."

"And don't let ExDaemon fuck with you. I've probably slaughtered him about a thousand times on the previous editions…but he keeps trying to screw with me… Bet it's some zit-faced ten-year-old poser…" He trailed off as the first mission loaded and the game began. It was your typical multi-player shooter, and I honestly didn't understand how he was so interested in these things. We ran around the repetitive terrain, shooting anybody on the opposing team and collecting items, upgrading weapons, etcetera. He gave me instructions now and then that I didn't really need, and the other players cursed us out or accused us of using cheat codes when we weren't. We got through the mission in only about three minutes and waited for the second one to load. "You're good at this; dunno why you don't like it."

"It's boring. There's no thought to it, just mindless reiteration." Mission two started and it was basically the same as before: kill enemies, hunt for items, find the switches, upgrade armor and weapons… Apparently we were space-explorers on some distant mining planet all competing to obtain a certain valuable ore hidden deep inside the ground. The future of each of our home worlds depended on this rare ore that could be cultivated to cure disease, or something, and a war had broken out, of course. There was mild strategy involved but little storyline or challenge. I didn't really pay attention to it that much and I didn't care either. We made it to mission seven before I became irrevocably bored out of my mind, not to mention slightly dizzy, and quit.

"Today and tomorrow are ordinary work days," I said to him, telling him to also quit playing for the day. He saved our progress and lit a new cigarette while I talked. "I want you to rent a place across the street from the SPK member Halle Lidner's condominium complex… Set up minor surveillance equipment to watch her home the rest of the day and inform me of when she arrives there for the night, and if she does anything else worth mentioning. I want to be relatively sure her routine is consistent with your sources before I break in. Also double-check the security to be sure nothing has changed since you hacked the info."

"Got it, Boss." He replaced his vest and packed a case of video equipment.

"And buy sheets and pillows on your way back." I tossed him the keys to the motorcycle and my helmet before he left. I took more Ibuprofen and crashed on the ridiculous couch. I hadn't been able to sleep at all on the plane trips and decided to catch up on my rest now while I had the chance.

**November 15, 2009**

**6:18 p.m.**

I fell into a deep sleep that veiled the world, listlessly dreaming until I was abruptly yanked from the momentary bliss by the beeping of my new cell phone. I jerked into awareness, groggy but instantly alert. I wanted to go back to sleep as the dizziness reappeared-and then the pain beneath it. I sighed and picked up the phone from the coffee table, then flipped it open, putting it to my ear.

"Halle just got back to her condo," Matt said absently into the line.

I checked the time and then spoke into the mouthpiece, still slumped on the sofa. "Just on time according to your sources… The SPK headquarters must not be far from her home then…"

"Yeah. She got here in a taxi and then punched in a code at the front gate. That looks like about all for security, besides when she unlocked her front door with her key. Through the scope it looks like it's just an ordinary deadbolt, nothing fancy. Should be no problem to pick."

"Excellent. Notice anything else?"

"She's wearing a skirt today," he mentioned, and I heard his game system tapping and beeping in the background. "And pumps… She's got an even better ass in person."

I sighed irritably. "Why do I even try? You're useless at paying attention to anything you're supposed to. Ogle women on your own time, damn it."

"Eh," he grunted. "So, should I keep watching the door?"

"It won't be necessary. If worse comes to worse, I can just wait in her room all night."

"Alright… I'll leave the cameras on tonight just in case and head back over there…after shopping, that is."

"Okay, Matt."

"Later."

**November 15, 2009**

**8:35 p.m.**

After confirming that Halle did come home in the evenings of ordinary work days, the plan I had devised was good to go. I would break in tomorrow at 5:45 at the latest and make my way to her bathroom in the dark. Hopefully if there were cameras they weren't infrared, but I highly doubted Near would go to such extreme lengths so prematurely. I would wait in the bathroom to be extra cautious, because I was certain Near would never place cameras in there no matter what. Then I would just have to wait.

I went over the floor plan of her condo again and again to be certain, even after logging it away in my photographic memory. Just about all Wammy kids had been gifted with photographic memories and taught to constantly improve them, although L's and Near's had always reigned supreme. Perhaps my brain was more occupied with social skills and adaptive resources, so I couldn't retain as much bare text as hermits like them. Who could say? Either way, my memory was at least ten times as potent as any average human being's, and that would serve me just fine.

Matt played something on his PlayStation3 for a while after he got back, now and then interrupting my thoughts with a smash and a violent slicing noise accompanied by screams. Some kind of fantasy slaughter game was what it looked like when I bothered to watch. Apparently he was playing as a scantily-clad female warrior. How he stayed so fixated on those damn things, I would never understand. After ten or so levels he switched consoles and played some sort of underwater horror fantasy on his Xbox360. My regular cell phone rang and I answered it, finding that our weapons had arrived at a private airstrip and would be delivered to a drop off point in the city. They would call me when the weapons got there and then I could pick them up.

"I'm hungry," I told him after he screwed around on the new game for a while. It was nearing 9:30 at night and by now I'd finished off all but one bar of my chocolate supply on the trip.

"Mmm," he answered, tapping buttons rapidly, his shoulders twitching with the motions of the shooter on screen.

"Matt, did you hear me?"

"Mmm," he grunted again, focused utterly on the game.

"I'm going to shoot you in the face and dump your corpse in the sewer," I sneered, testing his attention.

"Mmm," came his answer.

"Goddamn it, Matt! Get your eyes off that fucking contraption!"

"What?" he asked, still playing. "What's the matter now?"

"I said I'm hungry."

"So eat."

"You didn't buy any decent food!"

He took a steep drag off his cigarette, finishing it off, and then snuffed it out in an empty beer can since his ashtray was full. "Well, we could order in."

"Do you know how fucking long that will take? We live in the Asian ghetto."

"You wanna go out then?"

"I guess we have no choice!"

"Chill out, dude. I'll pay, no problem."

"Of course you're paying," I sneered as if there were any question.

He paused the game and shrugged, getting up and digging around in the pile of junk food wrappers and empty cans that had already congregated on the coffee table. After searching for a minute he produced his wallet on a long chain and shoved it in his jeans, clamping the other end of the chain to his belt.

"Where you wanna eat?" he asked.

"Let me think about that," I barked sarcastically. "It's not like we live in CHINAtown or anything."

"Chinese it is then," he remarked and grabbed the apartment keys. It wasn't necessary to drive or hail a taxi, seeing as there was a cornucopia of Chinese restaurants just a block over. I had plenty of time to kill anyway. I put shades over my eyes to hide the bandages as best I could and kept my hood up. He fastened his vest up to his chin and his goggles concealed his eyes as always. I told him to walk on ahead so we wouldn't be seen leaving the apartment together, and we met up at the street corner outside the restaurant. "You look like a thug drag queen from a distance," he chortled, smoking as we walked together. The silvery stream twirled behind him in the chilly breeze.

"You're hilarious," I scoffed.

"You've got no sense of humor."

Matt snuffed out his cigarette in the ashcan outside before we stepped into the lantern-strewn buffet and were greeted at the counter by a young Chinese girl. "How ah you today?" she asked with a heavy accent. "How many? Two?"

"Yes, give us your most private table," I told her in the most common dialect.

She blinked, obviously surprised I could speak fluently, and then smiled a big toothy grin. "Right this way, please!" She scurried off with two menus and we followed her to a table-for-four in the back of the restaurant, secluded from the rest of it by finely painted silk screens. I sat on the left nearest the wall, so my good side would face outward. Matt plopped himself in the seat across from me and she handed us our menus. She left and returned with tea, serving us both a cup. "Would you like anything else to drink tonight?"

"Do you… Do you serve…uh, alcohol?" Matt asked, fumbling with his Chinese. Of course he had never paid too much attention in our foreign language classes.

"We only have beer. Do you have I.D.?"

"Sure." He pulled out his wallet and showed her his fake New York Driver's License. She glanced at it and nodded. I settled for the tea. She took it down and left us to contemplate our orders. Matt ordered a large dish of sweet and sour chicken with lo mein, and I had a plate of ginger chicken with rice. He inhaled his food like there was no tomorrow, slurping obnoxiously with his chopsticks. I actually took the time to taste mine, savoring it since my stomach was usually empty aside from chocolate. He had two glasses of beer before he brought out his Playstation Portable from his pocket and started playing. He turned down the game volume and so all I heard was the tapping of the buttons.

"Do you have to do that in here?" I scowled.

"Mmm," he muttered, focused again on the game. He wouldn't even notice if the waitress walked up and stabbed him with chopsticks right now. He got distracted far too easily and I was beginning to think he might be more harm than help on this case. He hadn't offered me a single deduction of his own the entire time we'd been working together on this; he always just went along with what I said. Of course, I didn't mind that method at all, but I knew how clever he was behind those thick lenses. Why did he never desire to speak up?

"Matt," I said seriously, starting on my rice.

"Hnn…yeah?" he murmured.

"What do you think?"

"Huh? What do I think?" He didn't move his eyes from the screen and never once paused in his tapping.

"About Kira, about this case. Tell me what you think. Have you deduced anything I haven't mentioned? You know you're free to provide input at any time. Or do I have to order you to THINK, too?"

He tapped some more before he apparently paused it and pocketed it. "You've never asked me what I thought before."

"It probably won't affect my intentions or plans," I mentioned, "but I'm curious. Like you said, you were chosen as Number Three. L knew how smart you are and so do I-even if you never bother to utilize your abilities. I want to know what you really think about this whole thing."

"Well…" He looked up when the waitress returned to fill our beverages, and he ordered a soda this time. I drank some of my refilled tea. "Uh, well, I don't really think that much about it at all…" he admitted, his tone ever disinterested. "I mean, if Kira wants to sit back and cut out all the dead weight in the world, then it's none of my business. I mean, I'm not exactly a law-abiding citizen, but I'm not exactly evil…or at least I don't think I am. It sort of pisses me off that one guy thinks he can tell the whole world how to run their lives, but then again, who wouldn't want to if they had the power? Of course, if you want to catch him, then so do I. I don't put much thought into it beyond that…"

"So if I had never showed up, you would never have gone after Kira?"

"Probably not… Well, actually, definitely not. I like staying hidden. Kira would never've found out my name, or even my face, so I would've had no reason to move against him. He wouldn't have been a threat to me, since I do all my work from behind a screen. I mean, nobody on earth would ever be able to find out a Wammy kid's name, without those fucking…Shinigami Eyes. I might've laid low for a while to spend my money, but I could always find something else to do, somewhere else to go… I like being invisible and that's how I would've stayed. I mean, Kira can't last forever, even if nobody catches him. He's human, so he'll eventually die like the rest of us… I'd just have to keep staying under the radar, the way I like it." He shrugged and leaned back in the chair, licking his lips. "Fuck, I wish I could smoke in here…"

So he had joined me on this mission solely for the sake of helping me, and only me. If Near had requested his help, he would have said no. Kira wasn't important to him at all. Since I'd met him he'd always preferred solitude and cluttered darkness. He didn't like going outside or overexerting himself physically if he could help it. He enjoyed sitting and hacking or playing games-and not much else. Even in L's awe-inspiring presence, he couldn't muster much excess devotion at all. It was there, but he had difficulties gathering the energy to show it. Of course, those assumptions had altered when he saved my life. That was the most devotion I'd ever seen in him, the most care, the most thought.

"So the only reason you're here risking your life against Kira is because I asked you to?" I questioned.

"Yeah, pretty much," he answered, always honestly. If he was an exception among the Wammy children for any other prominent reason-it was due to his honesty, blunt as it was. "Why are you asking all of a sudden?"

I finished my food and shoved the plate away, and he called for the check when the waitress passed. "I told you, I was curious. Just wondering if you were even a shred less lazy than you were four years ago. Obviously it was a waste of brain power to wonder." He shrugged again and he went to the counter and paid the check once it arrived. "What time is it?"

"Past ten," he answered as we headed back outside. "Feel better?"

"Yes. We wouldn't have to skulk around like this if you would buy food worthy of human consumption."

"Food like that is too much work," he commented. "I like just opening food and being able to eat it straight out. I don't like having to leave the house to eat, either."

I sighed. "You astound me, Matt."

"I'll take that as I compliment, even though I know it wasn't."

My regular cell phone rang as we walked and I answered it. "This is M," I said.

"The drop's been made. Come to Warehouse D on the T Dock down at Hannon Wharf. Be here by midnight."

"Got it." I hung up and then abruptly snapped the flip-phone right in half. I handed it to Matt. "Scrap this and use the parts if you want. Make sure it can't be traced."

"No problem."

**November 15, 2009**

**11:09 p.m.**

I drove the motorcycle to the drop-off point, parking it and walking up to the building. A pair of large guards strolled up to meet me, barricading my path with their bulk. I didn't recognize them but I could tell by the slight bulges in their jackets that they were armed.

"Identify yourself," one of them demanded.

"It's M," I told them, keeping my grip on my switchblade inside my jacket pocket in case they got riled.

"Can you prove it?"

"I worked with Rod Ross," I told them. "I saw him die on November 10th, just before midnight. Kira killed him along with Jack Neylon and most everyone else."

They looked at each other. "You're really Rod Ross' right-hand man?" the other one asked. "Thought you'd be bigger."

I clenched my teeth for them to see. "Shut your mouth and let me pass," I ordered. "With Ross and his second dead, I'm initiated as a Boss by default. So, hurry up and back off before I make you."

The men, who were indeed much larger than me, snickered at my threat. "I still don't buy it."

"I think he needs to find a body to match that big head," his buddy remarked.

They laughed. "A little guy like you can't really be M," the first one said to me, sliding his hand inside his jacket, obviously going for his gun. "I'm going to have to escort you to a real Boss, shorty." I gritted my teeth at the blatant disrespect, now pissed instead of just irritated. I did not want to deal with this right now, of all times.

I dashed forward in a split second, throwing my elbow into his wrist as it reached for his gun. I felt it lurch sickly forward and heard it snap loudly. He cried out as I spun behind him and kicked him full force in the back of the knee with my heavy boot, dislodging the joint with a grotesque POP. He fell sideways to the ground and wailed in agony, clutching his arm, unable to grab his gun.

I had executed the maneuvers all in about two seconds, so the other guard was now going for his own firearm, but I already had the fallen man's throat pressed beneath my switchblade. The standing man paused, seeing as I held his partner hostage, and that gave me the time I needed to swipe my victim's pistol from his holster. I had the standing man's forehead in my sight, aiming steadily as I got to my feet.

I kept a boot on the fallen man's neck while I yanked back the slide, putting a bullet in the chamber, and then tapped my index finger on the trigger. I turned the gun sideways like I preferred and scoffed through my teeth.

"You move slower than I even thought possible," I sneered. "What genius posted you lumbering ogres on guard duty?" He frowned, his lip twitching nervously as I aimed unwaveringly between his eyes. He still gripped his own gun tightly, glancing now and then at his fallen partner writhing in pain on the ground below me. "Drop the gun or you'll be down there with him," I snapped angrily, "only you won't be lucky enough to be squirming in pain."

He complied, setting it down and then putting his hands in the air. I considered shooting him just to satisfy my bruised ego, but I was interrupted. "There you are, Mello," a vaguely familiar voice said. A thick, tanned man with greased hair approached us from the direction of the warehouse. "What the hell's going on over here?"

I knew him-he was another Mafia leader who did business mostly on this side of the country, out of sight. He handled the majority of the Mafia's illegal weapon cartel, and I'd met him a couple times over the past few years. Donne Sever was his name. It was from his smuggling ring that I acquired my twin stainless-steel 9mm Berettas, which I favored above any other weapons. I always carried my personalized one with me when it was possible.

"It's about fucking time you showed your face," I growled. "Your airhead flunkies here thought I was some punk off the street. Didn't you tell them to expect me?"

He shook his head in disdain at his thugs, and then he shrugged and laughed nervously. "Well, I told them to expect the famous Mob Boss M… I didn't really explain that you were so…" I turned my head to glare fiercely at him from beneath my hood, flashing my teeth in a snarl. He jumped in fright and cleared his throat abruptly. "Um, I didn't explain…what you look like, that is…" He loosened his shirt collar and visibly swallowed. "It was stupid of me…"

"Very stupid," I stressed. I was tired of being underestimated for my appearance. Because I was of slight stature I wasn't naturally imposing to these big-boned American crooks, and I constantly had to throw my meager weight around to intimidate. It was tiring having to always overcompensate. I had hoped my reputation preceded me by now, but I suppose there would always be a few low-ranking peons who didn't yet know me enough to fear me. Still, I didn't have the patience for it. I lacked the time and the spare strength. "Whatever," I said. "They know me now, don't they?" I kicked the guy on the ground one more time and he whimpered, shrinking away from me.

Sever laughed, still with a nervous ring, and told the other guard to put his gun away and take his partner to a car so he could be treated. I tossed the gun to him and he caught it before I followed Sever to the warehouse.

"We were all surprised when we got your call," he told me as he led me through the side door. "We figured you got taken out like the rest of them. Everybody heard about the base in L.A. exploding. Some crazy shit went down, eh?"

"Yeah," I said, glancing around at the crates of illegal firearms to be sold to other criminal organizations, whichever few remained out of Kira's view, and whichever foreign terrorists bid the highest. "I barely made it out of there myself. Kira killed most of the guys, including Ross, and the rest died when the place blew. I assume he got their names off the FBI database."

"Still can't believe it was Kira, man…" he said, shaking his head. "We all heard the rumors, but Christ, that makes me pretty nervous, y'know? I'm just glad I'm invisible since I'm the weapons man. Kira is making it way too hard to run a business. Thugs everywhere are terrified of going to work, and my profits have been dropping left and right." He went over to a particular crate sitting by itself in the back corner. He threw off the tarp covering it and had two men pry it open with crowbars. "So how'd the place blow up?"

"Stray bullet got fired in the Kira confusion and it went right through the wall. Must've hit our stockpile of ammo," I lied smoothly. "That's all it took to set off a chain-reaction, blowing the whole place to hell. I was thrown from the second floor, but everyone else was on the first floor. The whole place collapsed in and burned."

He had no reason to doubt me. I was well-known in the Mafia by now as an accomplished killer and strategist, and I had made the whole organization a good deal of money over the years. Ross had been one of the top leaders and I had been his third-in-command, although I was his prime advisor, and so I carried more clout than even his lieutenant. The entire Mafia had always known me as Ross' right hand, despite my technical rank. The rest of the gang was dead, so I was replacing him at the top, but I had no one to be the Boss of anymore. All I could do was mingle as equals with other crime rings, but that would be more than enough to serve my purposes. I'd earned a high level of respect amongst the Mafia leaders all over America for my ruthless tactics and fool-proof schemes, and although I wouldn't have nearly as many connections as I did before, I could still make use of them even without Ross.

"Jesus," he remarked. "Glad you made it out, brother. Did you find some other business in New York? I guess you're working solo now that Ross and the other boys are dead…"

"I decided to lay low for a while, given the situation."

"Sounds like a good idea to me." The men got the crate open and tossed out all the packing material. "Here we are…" He bent over and began to remove the contents with gloved hands, setting them on a table in front of me so I could inspect. "…Two pump-action shotguns, a trio of 9mm Berettas, a pair of smoke screen guns and canisters, some tear-gas canisters, six grenades, a case of C4…and a semi-auto machine gun…complete with a heap of ammo. Is that everything, Mello?"

"Yeah, that's everything. Pack it up nice and inconspicuous for me."

"Sure." He had his two men load it all in a large duffel bags. "Need an escort to drive it back for you?"

"Yeah, just have him follow me."

"Alright. Always glad to do business, brother. Just get a hold of us if you need to again."

"I will. Don't ever try to call my number again, seeing as I'm trying to hide out. If I need you, I'll be the one to call, Sever."

"Got it."

I went back out the way I came and one of them followed me in a black Mustang, stopping where I stopped just a block over from the apartment. He handed over the bags in a secluded alley away from the road and then I called Matt and told him to meet me there. He arrived shortly and I had him take the bag to the apartment while I drove the bike back.

After tossing my jacket off I gladly unpacked my twin Berettas and sat down to clean and load them, feeling instantly more comfortable with their weight in my hands. Matt cleaned and loaded his own Beretta before he jammed it in the couch cushions. He then cleaned, loaded, and hid one of the shotguns in the hall closet. He went back to his games when he finished, and after a dose of meds I went into the bedroom and stripped to my pants. I slipped my guns under my pillow and crashed for the night, hearing the tapping and rumbling from his video games as I let the sleep come over me.


	6. Chapter 5

**+Part 5+**

**November 16, 2009**

**3:03 p.m.**

I slept in late the next day, until about three o' clock, and saw that Matt had passed out with the television on and a bag of chips on his chest, cradled under his arm like a companion. I woke him ruthlessly, listening to him whine before I showered and had him change my bandages.

Once 5:00 rolled around, I put on my sunglasses and helmet, stashed both my guns in my inner jacket lining, and drove the motorcycle to Lidner's condominium complex. I already had her gate code from one of her many files Matt had hacked and so got through that one line of security easily. It was close to sundown and many people were just settling in after work. I parked the bike and left the helmet, throwing my hood up to hide my face and ducked through the pool house, emerging on the back side of the buildings, all as I'd planned. No one noticed as I slunk along the neatly trimmed little lawns, finding her condo on the second floor and walking up to it from the back way. I surveyed, making sure no one was around me or watching me. The dark parking lot was cold and deserted for now, so I quickly jimmied the first lock, slid a tool through the crack to snap free the deadbolt, and went inside. I had known from her information that there was no electronic security system, so I safely entered, shutting and locking the door back behind me as if I'd never picked it.

I had the layout and relative size of the home memorized, so I slipped down the pitch-black hall effortlessly, keeping a hand out to watch for furniture I might bump into. The largest bathroom was through the bedroom on the right of the foyer, about seven feet ahead. I went in, crossed over the soft carpeting, and passed through the restroom door. So far so good. I replaced the door exactly where I had found it although I was sure it wouldn't matter and stood behind it, waiting with my gun drawn at my side and ready to shoot.

Her single condo was silent, only the ticking of a clock coming from inside the bedroom making any sound at all. The air of the condo smelled sweetly of woman's perfume, not excessively strong but distinctly feminine. She wasn't afraid to show her sex appeal, I could easily tell that from Matt's interest in her, but perhaps she understood the need for moderation. After all, she was a former CIA agent, having moved up in the ranks from former detective all the way up to serving the President. I could admire her dedication if I had the time or the energy.

About 15 or so minutes passed with me standing motionless and silent behind her bathroom door, so I took out my last bar of chocolate, peeled the upper half of the foil carefully back by the folds, and let the corner piece melt off in my mouth. I didn't want to snap it off in case there were listening devices. I was a third of the way through the candy when I at last heard the deadbolt click and the front door open. Her heels clacked down onto the hardwood before she kicked them off. I listened to her sigh loudly and enter the bedroom, flicking on the light and tossing what I guessed to be a jacket or purse onto her bed. After her garments shuffled for a while I peered out through the crack of the door hinges, watching her sit on her bed to glide off her flesh-colored thigh-high stockings. Her button-down shirt came next, and she headed towards the bathroom in only her camisole and skirt. Now was the time.

I had my gun to her temple before she could turn on the light. She froze and I moved fluidly, shutting the door while still behind it, never exposing myself to any possible cameras in the bedroom. I heard her take a breath but I pressed the gun more firmly to her temple and whispered in her ear, "Shhh…"

She put her hands up, nodding once, and I used my free hand to pat her down, searching each crevice of her clothing for bugs or wires. I found none, but that didn't mean the room itself wasn't bugged. She pointed to the mirror and I turned on the light, keeping my face down so she could only clearly see my mouth and chin beneath the hood and shades. I nudged the gun hard into her skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to caution her against trying something. She nodded again, once, eyeing me warily in the mirror as she reached down slowly and plucked up a lipstick from the vanity. She unscrewed it and wrote on the mirror: "NO BUGS." Was she telling the truth? Would she chance lying to me with a cocked gun to her head? She was a trained CIA agent, specializing in negotiations. She was smart enough to figure out that if I was any ordinary robber, I wouldn't be looking for listening devices.

What did it really matter, after all? Fine. If Near was listening…let him listen. I could recalculate. "Alright," I said. "Turn around." She did so, keeping her hands unthreateningly at either side of her shoulders. "Don't even think of trying anything, SPK Agent Halle Lidner," I said gravely. "You're going to answer my questions or I won't hesitate to put a bullet through your skull."

"It's nice to meet you too, Mello," she said, her face only slightly perturbed. She was keeping her cool admirably well, but that was what she'd been trained to do for years. I wasn't impressed. "So you're alive after all."

"Near has already told you about me. I figured as much."

"He told all of us about you, but as far as we knew…you were probably dead or unable to move for a while..."

"Near assumes I'm alive and well, I am certain of that. He knows me at least that much." She nodded. "Did he warn you that I'd try to come in contact?"

"No. At least, not yet."

"So you aren't lying to me about the bugs."

"No," she said seriously, "I'm not. There aren't any cameras either." I took my chocolate bar back out of my jacket pocket and immediately cracked off a chunk. "You don't look much like your old photo anymore…" she commented, taking her time in letting her eyes roam me. "…How did you escape that explosion? We all watched on the satellite feed."

She wasn't entitled an answer to such a question. I kept the gun pointed steadily between her eyes, holding it aimed sideways like I always did. It was an impulsive preference, I suppose a side-effect of being around so many gangsters for so long. "I want whatever information you have on Kira."

"I thought you were going to catch him on your own," she said, testing my patience.

"I am. I just want to clear up some things and this is the fastest way to do it. I don't have the luxury of spare time." She adjusted herself to lean more comfortably against the vanity cabinet, crossing her arms slowly over her ample bust, as if to emphasize it. I never took my eyes off where I was aiming the gun. How dare she lounge comfortably as if I were no threat to her at all?

"You're just like Near said you would be," she mentioned, "and yet you're not what I was expecting at all."

"Shut up. Who does Near think Kira is? I know he has a theory."

She hardened her features before she spoke, and I knew she was thinking of how to answer without giving too much away. "He's not sure yet, he just knows he's one of the members of the Japanese Kira taskforce."

"I already knew that. He must have a specific suspect."

"He hasn't said if he suspects one particular person more than the other or not. We're working together with the current L, who's on the taskforce, but Near doesn't trust any of them."

"So you are in direct contact. I knew it."

Beyond my aim on her forehead I bothered to realize she was indeed a gorgeous woman, with bright amber eyes that almost resembled gold, and shimmering, neatly trimmed white-blonde hair. I'm sure the makeup helped a great deal, what with her admirably full ruby lips and thick eyelashes blackened with mascara. Matt would love to be standing where I was right now, I knew. Girls were his only interest aside from video games and machines. Even back when we were kids he was always looking at pretty girls and smoothly flirting, as if it was a built-in mechanism. He was always somehow finding the opportunity to break plenty of prepubescent female hearts with his dismissive attitude and tendency to quit caring once he got bored. He'd apparently also always possessed a "thing" for blondes, so this woman was exactly his speed.

"What else do you know?" I demanded, not liking the way she was watching me evenly, those lovely amber irises rather like liquid on mine. Why was her gaze so fixated yet so soft? It irritated me, to say the least.

"The way Near works is mysterious. So far he's had the other members do most of the work. I haven't been able to participate much yet."

"It's because you're a woman," I informed her.

"...Why should that matter? Near is…well, I'm still amazed by how much of a genius he is…especially for being so young. I didn't think a person like him would alienate me just because of my gender…"

I grimaced at her compliment of him, my index finger twitching on the trigger. "That's exactly it," I told her, a little angrier now. "He may be a genius but that is exactly what stunts the rest of his skills. I know you've noticed that no matter how smart he is, he's still a little kid." She paused before she nodded in agreement. "Yes. His whole life he's looked up to big, strong, smart men, and he's always had them do the work. Even though he's so advanced in matters of deduction, his brain is still premature in everything else, especially social protocol. He could never survive on his own in the real world outside his little box. He's dependent on authority figures even though he poses as one. He's handicapped by the fact that he can't act alone, and since he's still so inept in that area, naturally he'll see a woman as inferior." She seemed to think about this, placing a hand to her chin. "I imagine he's clung to one of your other members, most likely the largest, most imposing man. Probably a man who stays closest to him, listens to his deductions, dotes on his every whim? Am I right?" Her eyes opened a little in recognition. I smiled at that. "See? He's the baby genius who needs a guardian to depend on."

She nodded. "I did get that impression… We all do everything for him, bring him whatever he needs, tend to the adult issues he has no experience with…especially the man you mentioned. Sometimes…I do feel more like I'm babysitting instead of investigating a crime. It can be frustrating, especially since he's never really asked me what I think…or even requested I do anything in the field."

"He will eventually, but when he does, it'll be to utilize your gender most effectively. You can't change the fact that he's a kid, and little boys don't depend on pretty girls for hard labor. That's just the way he thinks."

"Pretty, huh?" She met my eyes again, her voice too relaxed for my comfort. She really wasn't intimidated by me and that was increasingly annoying. Why must I always be underestimated? "It's hard to believe you and Near grew up together…" she mentioned. "You seem nothing alike."

"We aren't," I stressed. "I grew up but he'll always be underdeveloped. He's a recluse and he's spoiled. No one's ever told him anything except that he's a genius, so that's all he knows and all he expects. No one has ever disobeyed, disagreed, or talked back to him. His whole life he's had everything handed to him at his behest, and because of that he's arrogant."

"…Near said you were a bully and a control-freak, and he described your genius as always being second to his because you were too rash and didn't think things through." I bared my teeth in a sudden rage, my finger visibly jumping on the trigger. She flinched against the cabinets. "I'm only telling you what he said!"

"I already know what he thinks of me!" I hissed. "I don't need YOU repeating it!"

"Calm down," she said. "I'm sorry… I can tell YOU'RE the one who grew up, Mello..." Her eyes roamed me again suddenly. "I'm not trying to insult you. You're the one who tracked me down and broke into my house, completely unanticipated. I admit you caught me off-guard and I have to respect that. If it was Near, he would make one of us do it."

"So you get it. Do the other two members of your team, Stephen Gevanni and Anthony Rester, also get it?"

Her eyes winced, barely, briefly. Maybe she wasn't expecting me to know her teammates so well. "…No, they follow Near without question or hesitation, especially Commander Rester…just like you said before. Even when Near cuts them down, they just take it. I don't think Gevanni appreciates it, but he's not about to question a superior. I know he doesn't mean to be, but Near is rather…chillingly cold."

"I know."

"But you're not," she observed. "You seem abrasive, but you're the one fighting out in the open... You've already nearly died to solve this case…" Her eyes scanned me yet again, more lazily this time. I could tell she hesitated on my bandages. What the hell was she eyeing me this way for? Was that mere sympathy, or something else that made her eyes haze? "…Does it hurt?"

"What does it matter to you? Just tell me what his plans are and I won't shoot." I took a step closer to emphasize the loaded gun in my hand. "This isn't a toy, Halle, I'm sure you can tell that, and you can see the hammer's position. There's a bullet in the chamber, I can assure you. All I have to do is squeeze the trigger and your brain will be on the wall."

She leaned back a little, fidgeting uncomfortably finally. "Alright, I get it… You don't have to keep threatening me, okay? I'm not going to try anything. I don't have any problem at all talking to you."

"You don't?" I questioned suspiciously, snapping off another bite of chocolate.

"No. My goal is to catch Kira. A feat like that will be the pinnacle of my lifetime, the greatest highlight of any woman's career. I can retire after that…maybe get married, have children…"

"Touching," I remarked. "Aren't you on Near's side?"

"I'm on the side that catches Kira, plain and simple," she told me honestly, shrugging her shoulders. "It's either going to be you or Near that does it, so I don't plan to interfere with either of you. Besides, I already like you better."

I ignored the compliment. "Well then, get on with it. What are his plans?"

She turned around and pointed to something on the vanity-cream to clean her face. I nodded and she used some, wiping off her makeup with it in the mirror. "So far he's just been testing the current L and his taskforce, coercing clues from them and monitoring Kira's activities as the same time. The Japanese taskforce is under his constant scrutiny, and he and L don't seem to like each other much. He must have a particular suspect, but I'm not sure who. It could be any one of them."

"What all does he know about how Kira kills?"

"He knows that if you write down a person's name in the murder notebook, they die. You have to know their face too or it doesn't work. He also has a copy of the rules in English from the former L's reports. That's all so far..." So I was still ahead in that department. "You had the murder notebook for a while, so you probably know a lot more about it than he does. Looks like you're already ahead in the game." I didn't respond. "Look, Mello, do you mind if I take a shower while we talk? I've been on my feet in this monkey-suit all day."

I considered. What was with this woman? She wasn't modest in the least. Was she trying to use this as a distraction to get my guard down? Well it wouldn't work; it would make things easier for me because she would be defenseless.

"Fine, but you have to keep the curtain open so I can see if you try anything."

"That's fine with me." She began to strip and I stayed in place, leaning against the wall, lowering my gun to chest level to rest my arm but keeping it pointed at her. She stripped to her undergarments and turned on the hot water in the shower. Soon enough the room was filled with steam that fogged up the glass and I was nearly done with my chocolate bar.

"So, do you only want to catch Kira to prove you're better than Near? That's what he seems to think."

"That's the biggest reason, but it's not the only reason," I sneered. "I want to avenge L probably more than Near does. That brat doesn't have respect for anyone…"

"What do you mean?"

There was no harm in telling her this. "As soon as we found out he died all Near said was 'If you can't solve the puzzle, you're just another loser.' I may not have been L's best pupil, I'll admit that, but he was the only adult I ever respected…and so I will catch his killer."

"Hmm, I admire that... I wish I could have met this 'real' L. He sounds like he was amazing."

"He was, but all Near could ever think about was stepping over him, of surpassing him, not honoring him. Of course I want to surpass my mentor as well, but I don't want to completely snuff out his existence. The world needed L, but L is dead and no one can take his place. That's how it is. I want to surpass L in my own way and make my own identity apart from him, but all Near wants to do is become L. If he does that, then no one will ever know the difference. That's only going to disgrace L's legacy, not carry it on."

"…I understand what you're saying," she said, her tone of voice seemingly sincere. "That sounds rather harsh of Near, when I hear it from your point of view." She removed her lacey lingerie and stepped into the shower, standing beneath the spray of water. She sighed loudly and began to soak her hair. "I really don't understand that kid…" I didn't have a problem keeping an eye on her. I wouldn't "considerately" turn away and leave myself open. Half the time men got themselves killed by letting their guards down around attractive females. This woman was simply a means to an end to me, a tool, a voice box for recording information. Her physical comeliness meant nothing to my goal. "I don't think I'm the only one who gets impatient with his methods… He assumes too much and never worries about whether he's correct or not. He just brushes it off and has the rest of us find out what's what. You seem like the kind of person who gets right to the point and finds out the truth for himself. I prefer that, definitely."

"So you intend to help both of us simultaneously while not betraying either?"

"Exactly."

"You want to be able to claim credit by helping whichever one of us wins in the end?"

"Something like that."

I was starting to not hate this woman. She could indeed prove useful to my endeavor after all, much more useful than I had originally anticipated. I had expected an obstinate woman cop with a stubborn loyalty to her fellows, but that wasn't the case. Still, she was disappointing me at the same time; going along with everything I said without a fight or a protest. How had she taken a liking to me that quickly? Was she really so naïve, in spite of all her hardened training?

"That's all you know so far?" I asked.

"…I know he's getting closer to closing in on a suspect. He seems confident in moving forward all the time, even after all the other members died. I imagine he even started to pull some of our personnel files according to who he preferred, but he didn't act quickly enough... I think maybe…he acted slowly on purpose… He didn't seem at all fazed when the other men dropped dead around him… One of my co-workers even…shot himself in the head right next to me…" That would be the spy I bribed, Ill Ratt, but I didn't need to mention such a thing. "But Near never batted an eyelash. He doesn't seem to feel anything for any of us…as if he likes it better now that the SPK is smaller. He was so calm it was eerie. Maybe he even planned to have our numbers trimmed down…"

Interesting. "It wouldn't surprise me." Of course, Near didn't care warmly about anyone-not that I did either, but that's why I preferred to work alone, or else with men as immoral as me. If you worked with scum, then there was no need to feel bad about using and abusing them...not that I would, regardless.

"Oh, I was wondering, Mello…" she mentioned after rinsing her hair, "was it really you who killed all my co-workers…?"

Would it even be worth it to lie? Surely Near had figured it out. There was no way Kira could plant an American spy in the SPK, and I was the one in possession of the notebook at the time, and also had powerful Mafia influence. Of course I was the culprit.

"What would you say if I was?" I said.

She shrugged, swiping her wet hair back from her shoulders. "Sure it scared me when it happened, because I thought I was next…but they were just my co-workers, not my friends. I had only known them for as long as the SPK was founded. You did what you had to do, right? And now if we win, I'll get a bigger share of the credit."

This woman was continuing to surprise me. "So you don't even give a damn?"

"I do, of course… But you spared me, didn't you?"

What was she getting at? I spared a single woman at random, for this exact purpose. She only got lucky because she had been born a female, but if I wanted to continue getting information out of her, I had to keep her as much on my side as possible. I'd leave that particular part out.

"I didn't technically kill them," I explained, seeing no possible harm in sharing this meager information either. It was fairly obvious anyway, plus it might help me to gain the smallest amount of her trust. "I had one of my associates write in the notebook for me. I never used it personally."

"Smart of you, but what else could I expect?" She continued to bathe herself.

"Give me your cell phone number," I ordered after a little while.

"Planning to call me sometime?" She looked over at me as she scrubbed herself, the water cascading off her pale face and arms, washing away the bubbly suds of her sweet-smelling body wash. Were all American women like this?

"I'll call you for regular updates. Are you always home by this time? Do you ever stay late at the SPK headquarters?"

"Only on the weekends…"

"Then expect my calls on random weekdays past seven. When you receive a call from a restricted number, assume it's me. If you're anywhere in public or anywhere you could be overheard, go somewhere private and always speak quietly. And of course, if you're at SPK headquarters, never answer a restricted number-UNLESS it calls twice in a row. Understand?"

"Okay." She told me her cell phone number without complaint as she stepped from the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off with. I memorized it.

"I know Near will have a suspect soon, if he doesn't already. I'll be back here again in about a week to get the name. I know he doesn't trust anyone, so he'll figure I'd move this way and have you install cameras and bugs. He won't go so far as putting in infrared lenses, and he won't put any in here since you're a woman."

"…So in a week I should expect you to appear in my bathroom again?" she asked with a smile, still drying herself. "What day?"

"You won't know what day."

"I could just give you a key," she suggested, wrapping the fluffy towel around her.

"That won't work; you won't have deniability then. If the time comes where I need to use you as a hostage, Near will need to believe I broke in and forced you."

"Makes sense..."

I made it to the last few chomps of my confection. "You're certain there are no bugs or cameras anywhere in your house?"

"Near wouldn't do something like that without telling me, and like I said, the other SPK members pretty much assume you didn't survive the explosion…or else you're incapacitated due to it."

I figured as much, but I was no ordinary man, and I couldn't afford to lie in bed and recuperate while the case went on without me. "I'll be going then," I told her.

"That's all you wanted?"

"From now on you're my inside source on the investigation. If you lie to me, I'll find out. I'll check in again soon enough." I extended my gun to aim at her chest. "You first then-get moving."

"You don't have to keep threatening me with that," she began, flinching a little in her towel. Her hair was still dripping wet on her shoulders.

"Don't make me repeat myself." I nudged my head towards the door. "Move."

"Okay, fine." She went out, me following close behind, putting the gun muzzle against her bare back, pushing between the shoulder-blades. "Oh, that's cold!" she exclaimed, and walked through her bedroom and into the hallway. My wounds had been throbbing painfully for the last several minutes. I wanted to be gone. I wanted to choke down some pills and then rest. I wanted this to be over. But it wouldn't be; not for a long while, so I simply had to cope. I wouldn't be able to truly rest until either Kira or me was dead. I wouldn't know peace until I was Number One.

"I don't have to tell you what happens if you breathe a word of this to Near," I stressed.

"I wouldn't do that…"

"Even if he asks you?"

"Well…I wouldn't be able to lie well enough to convince that boy."

"That's true. If you act suspicious at all he'll be able to tell. The other SPK members might have assumed I'm dead, but Near doesn't, I assure you, and he'll let you know that. He won't ask you about me just yet, but he'll warn you I might approach, and he'll do it soon. Sometimes not even he expects me to act as fast as I do." We made it to the door and I shoved her aside with my gloved hand, forcing her back to the wall and keeping the Beretta aimed for her heart. "Don't ever try to call me after I call you unless I give you permission, and don't ever answer a restricted number when you're under surveillance unless it calls twice in a row. Remember that."

"I understand. See you soon then, Mello?"

"Keep your mouth shut until then." I unlocked the door, checking outside first. There was no one about so I gave her one last warning glare, which she responded to with a devilishly enticing smile and a lean of her hip. I ducked back out the door, shutting it, and moments later heard her lock it again. I snuck back out, recovering my motorcycle, and returned to Chinatown.

**November 16, 2009**

**8:17 p.m.**

Matt was at his games like usual; I could tell as I entered our crappy apartment and encountered the familiar sounds of manic tapping, shots blaring, and blood splashing. The television was giving off the only light in the entire home, and it constantly flashed with gunfire and got dim with sprays of blood, then flashed again with explosions or gunshots and dimmed again with hails of gore. I shook my head and threw back my jacket hood, taking off the shades and briefly rubbing the wound on my face which they had chaffed. I approached him, almost tripping over four separate aluminum cans strewn across the floor and narrowly avoiding a large sack of opened potato chips. There were broken chips and empty snack wrappers all over the carpet. What a filthy slob he was. Always had been.

I finally came around the couch to where I could see him and found him sprawled upside-down on the sofa, his head dangling over the edge and his knees curled around the back, feet hanging. Even in that position he was smoking.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, swearing he was the only person who could consistently baffle me.

"I'm trying to see how fast I can beat Planet Doom: Raw Bloodshed like this. I've already beaten it on every mode sitting up..."

"...What have you been smoking since I left?"

"Just good old cancer-inducing chemicals. Nothing special." An explosion rattled the TV as he shot what was apparently a grenade at a hulking fanged beast. Blood and gore erupted from it and it slashed at him furiously. His character dodged, leaping up onto a stack of metal crates, launching another grenade which was accompanied by another splatter of blood. His body leaned with the controller, his thumbs punching the buttons with rapidity, his goggled eyes fixated. He had the volume nearly as high as it would go on the surround-sound speakers, which he had apparently set up while I was gone. The place already smelled like smoke and pizza.

"Everything about you gives me a headache," I muttered, doubting he could hear. I shook my head in disdain and let myself sink into the armchair, rubbing my temples. I popped another dose of Ibuprofen.

The creature on the game finally screeched and toppled over in a bloody heap. "Yes! Fall, bitch, fall!" he cried, throwing a fist up triumphantly. He took the moment to pluck his cigarette from his mouth and tap the ash upside-down into his ashtray, which was overflowing. "So, how'd it go with the babe?" he asked me as the next level loaded.

"I think she'll turn out useful," I told him. "She's willing to tell me everything Near finds out from now on."

"She is? Why?" He reached over and grabbed a soda can, still upside-down, and clenched his stomach to sit up enough to chug from it.

"She says she wants to be on the winning side, no matter what."

"So did you get to watch her undress? Shower? Anything juicy?"

"You perverted bastard."

"Oooh, that sounds like a yes."

I exhaled in exasperation. "I don't know what is with that woman, honestly. She stripped down and bathed right in front of me while I had a gun pointed at her. She didn't seem to mind at all."

"Wait, what? She totally got naked right in front of you?"

"Yes."

"Seriously…?" The next level began and he made his character walk through a dark, dense jungle with corpses hanging from the trees in cages. "Maybe she's got a thing for you."

"I just met her," I argued. "I was willing to kill her if she didn't answer me."

"Dangerous men turn women on fast, man," he insisted, seeing a dinosaur-like creature dash at him, hissing. He tapped the buttons maniacally, firing a shotgun at it until it shrieked and plopped over. "I should know. Maybe she likes to be threatened. Maybe that's what gets her off."

"You're a freak. Do you need the TV that loud?"

"It's not loud."

He switched to a nail-gun and unleashed it upon a crowd of small jumping monsters with many rows of teeth, the noise of the weapon shaking the very brick foundations and pounding between my ears. "You don't think that's loud?" I shouted over the din.

"Nope."

"Turn it down!"

"Hold on a sec." He kept shooting, finishing off the swarm of biting things, and then paused it and searched blindly for the remote. He lowered the volume from his overturned position and then resumed. It was substantially quieter, though still in the thirties. "That better, Boss?"

"It's fine," I snapped, giving up. "I'm tired. Change my bandages so I can relax and think things through for a while."

He finished off another swarm of tiny carnivores before he paused it and got up, scrambling into a righted position and then standing. He wobbled a little, throwing a hand to his brow. "Shit, all the blood went to my head."

"Idiot." I stalked down the hall into the bathroom, tossing off the jacket. I unzipped my vest next and took it off, then sat on the edge of the tub, starting to peel back the medical tape and unwind the gauze.

"I'll do that if you want," he offered uncaringly. I just held out my arm and waited and he took off his gloves with his teeth and commenced to unwinding the layers of bandaging. He removed the ones on my face extra carefully, watching his progress through a stream of smoke and orange fiberglass. Once all my raw scabs were uncovered, he shoved his goggles back onto his head and looked them over. "I think these are looking better…"

I observed them reluctantly, feeling my throat tighten at the sight of their hideousness. They marred my flesh completely, staining my image. "They are better. I'm scarring quickly."

"That's good then." He took some rubbing alcohol and cleaned them with cotton swabs. They weren't gaping open anymore so it didn't hurt nearly as badly, though it still stung to high hell. After that he put on antiseptic and medicated ointment to help it scar over as fast as possible, and then wrapped on fresh gauze. I picked up my vest and started to go after he finished. "Want me to help you sponge off or anything?"

"What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "Just doing what a slave does best."

"Just leave me alone and turn that damn TV down so I can fucking think. I'm not in the mood for you."

"Oh yeah? What are you in the mood for?" He stood, following me to the doorway, standing too closely behind me. "Maybe Miss Hardcore Special Agent left a bigger impression on you than you thought?"

"That's moronic!" I sneered, turning back to face him. "I have better things to do than fawn over loose women!"

"Are you sure? There's always time for that." He leaned his hand on the doorjamb above my head, resting his weight, moving his torso closer to me. He was superior to my height, especially in those heavy biker boots of his. And I noticed, probably for the first time, that his shoulders were broader than mine. He was effectively caging me against the wall with his body, which I didn't like in the slightest. He hadn't ever been this close to me, except when I was recovering, which was excusable. But this now…was unacceptable. Why was he suddenly being so bold?

In spite of that, his eyes remained lazy, at ease, dulling the green. "…You sure you're okay, Mello?" he asked.

"If you ask me that one more damn time…!"

His head tipped downward, moving a little closer to mine. "…You'll what?" he taunted.

I whipped my Beretta from my pants and jammed it into his belly, making his abdomen tense abruptly. The Celtic cross charm on the lanyard jingled as he blinked down at me.

"I'll make you a new hole to eat with," I hissed. "Your food will get where it's going much faster."

One red eyebrow tweaked upward and then he sighed. He was really too fearless for his own good. "Fine, I read you loud and clear," he grumbled. "No more asking if you're okay."

"Now we've come to an understanding." I lowered the gun, putting it away again. I went to the bedroom, finding the rickety old brass-work bed just as I'd left it. I popped a dose of Ibuprofen and drank half a bottle of water, ready to lie down for a while.

"Oh, Mello," he called, turning the TV down lower.

"What?"

"I ordered a couple cases of your chocolate from, like, four different sites in four different countries using four different identities. I ordered some kind of holiday gift-wrapped sets so they won't be suspicious. I dare somebody to notice they're for you."

Clever. I wasn't in the mood for him to be clever. I was in the mood for him to foul up so I could keep yelling.

"Good," I growled, and slammed the door shut.


	7. Chapter 6

**+Part 6+**

**November 17, 2009**

**8:13 a.m.**

The next morning I woke early, as always, walking out of the bedroom to find Matt slumbering on that awful couch with the game controller still on his lap and a beer can under his arm. He was still fully dressed with his goggles over his eyes. I considered rudely awakening him just for the hell of it, but I decided not to waste the energy at the moment and headed for the bathroom. I undressed and began unwinding my bandages, not at all eager to reveal my wounds to my eyes. Once all the gauze was on the floor I slowly lifted my gaze to stare at what had lurked beneath them. I made myself observe them, seeing that the pink scar tissue was thickening, shrinking the scabs. The wounds on my face and neck were so much less severe that they were nearly all scar tissue already. It was a good thing I'd put on that gas mask at the last second, because it was probably what saved most of my face. If I hadn't been wearing it, I would have most likely lost my eye, at least.

Despite that upside, the burns were just sickening to look at, so I stopped and tried my best to push the images from my mind. I showered quickly, washing my hair and fuming as more strands came out in my hands. Damn it to hell. I finished and stepped out, drying off on one of the new towels he'd bought the day before. I slid on leather pants and laced them, then buckled a belt over. I had left the rest of my clothing in the bedroom, so I went over to the mirror, avoiding looking at the wounds too closely again. In a few days I wouldn't even need to bandage my face anymore, even though I would prefer to keep hiding the marks. Bandages were just more conspicuous and harder to conceal anyway, I suppose.

I combed out my hair, observing how uneven the strands were. I had been too much in pain before to care immensely, so I picked up some scissors and snipped at the ends, trying to match the layers as much as possible. It was pretty much useless, so I just kept the left side of my bangs longer in order to help conceal the scar. All the strands were uneven and jagged now, destroying my preferred style, but there was nothing else I could do. When that was finished I brushed my teeth and washed my face, dabbing the cold water on my damaged cheek. It stung and felt good at the same time.

I went back out into the living room, hoping maybe he'd bothered to wake up by now, but of course he'd only dangled an arm and a leg over the side of the couch and continue to sleep. He hadn't even bothered to kick his boots off before he crashed.

"Matt," I said above him. He didn't budge. "Matt," I repeated, kicking the sofa. He grunted and inhaled through his nose, rolling over on his side. The empty beer can clattered to the floor and he stirred, groaning. I kicked the sofa again and he stretched, a yawn bursting from his mouth. "You lazy bastard," I barked down at him.

"Hunh… Wha…fucking…time is it…?" he mumbled, sitting up and scratching his head.

"Time for you to get your ass off the couch and give me fresh bandages."

"Uhn…just… Just gimme a minute… Five more minutes…okay?" He tossed his arm over his face and fell back, going limp again.

"Get the fuck up!" I kicked the sofa twice as hard and it lurched back onto its rear legs and then crashed back down, nearly knocking him right off of it.

"Shit… Okay, okay… I'm up…" He sat up and moaned, pulling his goggles down and letting them hang around his neck. He rubbed his eyelids and yawned again. "So…how you feeling?"

"Annoyed at the moment," I growled.

"Obviously…but you usually are…" He stretched his arms over his head and stood from the couch, popping his spine. He finally looked at me, his eyes scanning. "Your burns are looking better every day, man. You must be some kinda god to heal so fast."

"I wasn't burned as badly as I could've been, like I said," I reminded him impatiently. "And I shielded my face, so it's the least severe there. Now shut your mouth and bandage me."

"Okay, okay…" Once he finished, I went back to the bedroom and put on the rest of my clothes. I zipped my vest up to below my collarbone as I'd been doing, so the tight material wouldn't chafe my bandages. I pulled my boots on next, zipping them up the side. I threw my rosary around my neck next and clipped my gold rosary bracelet on my right wrist. I slid on my leather gloves and grabbed my wallet, going back out in the living room.

He was already snoozing on the couch again so I rolled my eyes at him and finished clipping my wallet chain to my belt. Today would be a good opportunity to catch up on some research. I turned on my computer and ran through my regular search of the Kira websites. There seemed to be little development on any of them. I uploaded the imported feed of Sakura TV from Japan and listened to it as I surfed through one of the most popular Kira chatrooms. Most of them were utterly useless-just endless pages of mindless drivel from moronic kids. But this one actually had valid members of society posting often, including police, former FBI, and politicians from across the globe. Every now and then there was something interesting on it.

It looked like there was a new blog up today and people had been responding to it all through the night, posting from every corner of the world. Someone wrote about the dramatic decrease in crime all across the globe, accompanying it with stunning percentages and the fact that even the recent war had ceased fire altogether. Murder had virtually ended, except of course for those who Kira murdered, but nobody seemed to mind that. I didn't particularly mind it either, but it was a different story now that Kira most likely knew my real name. All he needed was a face to go with it and I was dead. Apparently crime rates, especially in Japan and America, had dropped by over 60%. I signed into my account, joining the chat under one of my numerous fake screen names. Today, I would be SaintMichael225. Immediately people responded to my joining the chat and we started to discuss the blog.

FireForge16: You can't argue with results. When's the last time you turned on the news and heard about children getting kidnapped, or young women getting raped, or men being beaten to death in the streets? When's the last time you even heard about anyone getting busted for a carjacking? Kids can walk the night streets and feel safe for once. Parents don't have to agonize over their children going out to have fun. Kira provides a universal peace of mind, especially for parents. 

Matt had already hacked the blog and found out who most of the regulars actually were, so I knew that this man was in fact a former senator. Plenty of other members agreed with his comment. I responded in the chatroom.

SaintMichael225: Fear always keeps people in line. It's the fastest road to control. People aren't behaving because they want to. You can blame the environment and the upbringing, but most criminals are criminals because they want to be. Only the fear of death can alter their actions, but it does nothing for their conscience. Instead of the world being peopled with killers, now it's just peopled with killers too afraid of killing.

FireForge16: You don't sound much like a supporter of Lord Kira. Who cares if the evil cower in fear? As long as you yourself are a good person, then you have nothing to worry about. You aren't a criminal, are you?

I laughed silently and typed back a quick response.

SaintMichael225: So what if I am? That just means I know what I'm talking about. From a criminal's perspective, Kira is one of us. I've used fear to intimidate and control others many times, and it works. The difference is, I don't claim to be a god, or have the power to kill anyone on earth on just a whim. I actually have to go out and get my hands dirty, something Kira wouldn't know anything about. Be glad I don't, but do you think your Lord Kira would be even half as godly is he had to stab or strangle his victims with his bare hands?

FireForge16: Lord Kira is not a criminal. He is righteous, our savior. 

He always thinks of the good of mankind.

I shook my head. Could a politician really be this naïve? In this day and age, likely.

SaintMichael225: Didn't you ever pay attention in government class? Sure, a Utopia is a good idea, but it will inevitably implode. Take communism for instance. You did at least read Animal Farm, didn't you? Don't you see that a person who's gotten his claws into the whole world will inevitably continue to escalate? You may think Kira is a metaphorical god, but he is still just a human being like the rest of us. Power corrupts everyone, regardless of status. He will continue to get more and more extreme, until not just evildoers-but the weak, the lazy, and the dishonest are snuffed out too. Are you that perfect?

FireForge16: You have no idea about Kira's ideals. You're too dirtied by your crimes to see the vision of a perfect world. You're just another worthless human being who'd be better off dead. I hope Lord Kira punishes you soon.

SaintMichael225: He probably will, but all tyrannical dictators start off with good intentions. Hitler, for example. Alexander the Great. Napoleon. Caesar. Pick up a history book sometime. You should know better than me that dictatorships were largely abandoned, shouldn't you, Mr. Senator? Don't be surprised if you're next on the list.

He didn't respond for a full three seconds before he signed off. I snickered to myself and then signed off also.

What Matt had said was true to me. If I didn't have a personal vendetta against Kira, then I most likely wouldn't have bothered to hunt him down. No one would have been able to find out my face or my name, and I could have continued to operate in the underground, uncaring of the filth Kira put to death every day. In my position of power, I had disposed of many a worthless underling, and all those who betrayed or interfered with me had been but to death without hesitation. I could see where he was coming from, definitely. But that wasn't the case, because Kira had eliminated L and humiliated me. I wanted his head on a pike because he had affronted me, not because he was an egomaniac trying to take over the world. If I still had the notebook, I would probably pursue a similar takeover, only I wouldn't deceive myself into thinking I was righteous. I would embrace my rule with merciless verve. So it was nothing against Kira as the servant of mankind-it was against Kira as the person who killed my mentor and dared to cross me. I touched the bandages on my face, frowning.

He would pay.

I reexamined the evidence I had gathered thus far in my head, searching for any kind of holes, any kind of clues I had overlooked. I knew Kira was connected to the Japanese taskforce, and considering they had broken into my hideout with Shinigami Eyes and Kira's own notebook, then it was very likely that Kira was not just close to, but ON the taskforce. I was certain of this, and now that Halle had confirmed that Near thought so also, I relished in the fact that I had come to that conclusion first. I had no idea what kind of person this new L was. According to the information I'd coerced from Yagami, the current L was just a mouthpiece. That meant that someone else was telling him what to say. Possibly, the entire taskforce was acting together as the new L. Of course, it would be hard to believe that any one man could fill L's shoes. Even me and Near didn't match up to him by ourselves, I knew that. So it was definitely believable that the entire taskforce was acting as L, and that Kira was somehow clever enough to hide just under their noses. Maybe it was Kira himself pulling all of the new L's strings, influencing the entire investigation while maintaining his innocence? Who would suspect someone who's trying to catch Kira of BEING Kira? That would definitely be interesting...

There was a knock at the front door and I went over cautiously, looking through the peephole and clutching my gun in one hand. It was a portly man in a hat and uniform, and he had a box in his hands. I opened the door a crack, allowing only the tiniest glimpse of the good side of my face. "What is it?" I demanded.

"Are you Simon Teague?" he asked, looking at his sheet.

The name was vaguely familiar… One of Matt's aliases. "Yeah, that's me."

"Here you go, sir." I opened the door enough to take the package, then closed it on him just as he started saying "Have a nice day." I locked the door and tossed the box on the kitchen counter, slicing it open with my switchblade. Inside was another box wrapped with fancy paper and a shiny label reading "Season's Greetings." I tore that open and found about ten bars of my chocolate. Matt must have gotten overnight shipping for this order. I took them out of the holiday wrapping, tossed all of it in the trash, and then stored nine of the confections in the fridge and ripped the end of the foil off one. I broke off a corner piece and devoured it eagerly, feeling a comforting wave instantly spread across me.

Invigorated, I returned to the sofa and kicked the back of it. "I thought I told you to get your ass up," I barked down at him. He moaned and rolled over, burying his face in the armrest. "You are a useless waste of skin."

"Why do I gotta wake up…?" he mumbled.

"We have work to do."

"Like what…?" he grumbled, sill not moving to get up.

"Whatever the fuck I say! Now move!" I kicked the couch again, harder, and it lurched forward viciously, tumbling him right off of it this time. He hit the floor in a heap.

"…Shit…" He rolled over onto his back and sat up, yawning and stretching. I heard several joints pop loudly and he sighed. "What's up? What're we doing?"

"I'm not sure what to do next… I need to get my thoughts together and think of a way to move forward. I'm certain of two things: One-that Kira is on the Japanese taskforce and Two-that he has use of a proxy that possesses the Shinigami Eyes. This is dangerous, extremely dangerous…"

He scratched his head and crawled back up onto the couch, sitting with his feet plopped on the coffee table. He stretched again, popping a few more vertebrae. "Go ahead and talk it out, Mello. I'm listening."

I never liked to voice my thoughts when it wasn't necessary, but I knew what he meant. We used to do this often, back at Wammy's House. I remembered, even as it had been several years by now. Every so often, when L found time to visit us in-between cases, he would give Near, Matt and I a small detective assignment to tackle on our own. Usually we would be given a week or so to solve it, and then he would check back in over a computer screen to see what we had come up with. Of course, Matt and I would work together, leaving Near out of our deductions entirely. This never bothered Near, and he would work by himself in the partial dark with no complaints, as he preferred. I would do most of the sleuthing while Matt aided me in the research and physical details. He was an excellent crime scene investigator, actually, because he got to work with his hands.

With all the evidence gathered, I would usually talk through my deductions to get them all out in the open and hopefully find a way to the solution. Oftentimes, with Matt listening, we could come to an answer the two of us apart may have overlooked. I didn't like to discuss my innermost workings, but somehow Matt's presence helped stimulate my thoughts and encourage them to fall more readily into place. I can admit that most of the time I try too hard and strain my thought processes, but with Matt listening…his one-track mind often sifted through my juxtaposition of thoughts and heard the singularly important detail I needed. For some reason or another, he had always been able to do this.

Even though he infuriated me often, I was well aware that I had never truly been angry with him for anything. He was the one exception to my constant wrath, now that L was dead. Always, Matt's laid back demeanor and consistently relaxed attitude were partially contagious, and I was only able to be at ease with him. Not even L had had the same effect on me. Matt allowed me to cool my nerves and think perfectly clearly, for whatever reason.

We had deduced this way as children, on pretend assignments as a test from L, but not since then had we operated in that way… This entire case had been spent with me doing all the thinking and Matt simply assisting me in whatever I ordered him to. Like he'd said before, he was only here because I asked for his help, so I suppose he didn't feel it was his place to provide input. I was surprised he remembered our childhood detective assignments, actually. Just how much was he hiding behind those goggles?

I cracked off another bite of chocolate and crossed the room, sitting back in my preferred chair by the window. The filthy blinds were drawn as always, the tattered curtains pulled as far as they were able. I slouched and plopped one boot on the opposite side of the coffee table. He took out his PSP and turned it on, muting the volume and beginning to tap away while I got my bearings.

"Kira had two notebooks, at least-one in the taskforce's custody, unable to be utilized, and one hidden with a second Kira-a proxy who did his bidding and could murder people freely. But, if I'm correct, and I'm certain I am, then the Shinigami who worked with us, Sidoh, got his notebook back and removed it from our world. So that means…Kira is back down to one notebook? No, that doesn't make sense." I took another bite. "How could he still be killing criminals? Sidoh's notebook… Did Sidoh just steal it back? No, that's against the rules. He has to obtain ownership through a willing transaction, which means the Japanese taskforce GAVE him the notebook I was using back to him willingly. Were they not worried because they still have Kira's, which he sent to them? But Kira is still killing criminals-that's the key." I licked the edge of the candy bar. "If Sidoh has his notebook back, and the taskforce has Kira's notebook after making a deal with him…that doesn't add up. They would never give Kira HIS notebook back willingly. I suppose he could have threatened them…" I snapped off a large hunk of chocolate and let it melt on my tongue. "Kira MUST be on the taskforce, there's no other explanation. He wouldn't just send his own notebook to the police, even to get the other book back from me. Kira would find another way-which means he was close enough to the taskforce to know how they would behave, and know he could possibly get his hands back on the notebook. He's amongst them, working with them… That much I'm positive about."

I licked the candy slowly, letting the taste linger in my mouth, concentrating. All I'd done was review what I already knew. "But that doesn't get me anywhere! I haven't moved forward at all. I just keep repeating that Kira is on the Japanese taskforce. I know that, but it doesn't get me any closer to Kira." I frowned hard, feeling the medical tape on my cheek tug the skin.

"You know all the guys on the taskforce, right?" Matt asked, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag. He then continued to play his game.

"Yeah, we tortured the head of the Japanese police and got all their names and basic information. I also got two of their phone numbers from Yagami when he came to get his daughter back. But thanks to Kira, Takimura and Yagami are both dead now."

"Did any of the taskforce guys jump out at you? Anybody seem a likely candidate for Kira?"

"I can't be sure. The only one I've had interaction with is Yagami…and he had the perfect opportunity to kill me. He saw my name, he had the notebook, the Eyes…he almost wrote it down…he almost killed me right there…but he hesitated. He showed me mercy, so I know he definitely wasn't Kira. I found out through him that the current L is the man named Touta Matsuda, or at least, he's the dummy posing as L. My theory is that they're all in on it together."

"There's no way just one of them is good enough to even pretend to be L," he mentioned. "They can't even figure out that Kira's right next to them."

"Yes, but why can't they? Is it trust? Are they so loyal they're blind? Kira is right with them, helping tell L what to say, what to do… L is being influenced by Kira, and America is funding the SPK. They're sharing information. This is going to get bad."

He puffed on his cigarette for a while, just tapping away at the buttons on his game system. "...So you're saying that the Japanese police had a notebook, Kira's proxy had a notebook…but now the Death God took one of those back…which means there's only one left, and the taskforce has it in their custody. But that doesn't add up because Kira's still killing… So then…shouldn't there have been, like, three notebooks to start out with?"

I bit into my chocolate and thought that over. "It must be…" I said out loud. "So…there was Sidoh attached to the notebook I stole, and another Shinigami attached to the notebook at the taskforce headquarters. So if Kira's proxy currently owns a third notebook, that means there's a third Shinigami." I cracked off the piece I'd sunk my teeth into and rolled it into my mouth with my tongue, chewing sluggishly. "But Sidoh went back home… So…are there still two more Shinigami left on Earth? If so, that would mean there are at least three beings with a Shinigami's Eyes left in the world-Kira's proxy and the Shinigami attached him, and a third Shinigami attached to whichever member of the taskforce currently owns their notebook."

"You're sure Kira doesn't have the Eyes?"

"Not if he's remained consistent in how he operates. From the beginning, the first Kira, the REAL Kira, has neglected to use the Eyes himself. He's always had pawns to do it for him. He's probably too smart to halve his lifespan…since he wants to be god and all. I don't think that will ever change, not even if he gets desperate. Kira will find another way, like I would."

"Hmm…" he hummed through his pursed lips.

"…Three beings with Shinigami Eyes? This is risky… We could seal our doom without even knowing it…" I realized aloud.

"Epic," was what he said.

I scoffed. "None of this helps me get closer!" I went to take another bite and realized I had finished off the bar. I crumpled the foil in my fist and tossed it in frustration. "The world is rapidly rallying behind Kira, which only complicates things… Chasing him becomes trickier, deadlier… Anyone opposing Kira will have the whole world against him. Worshippers quickly become fanatics and then mobs. He'll definitely use it to his advantage as much as possible… We're already in deep."

"I hate crowds," he mumbled, still playing. He stopped a moment to flick his ash away. I already knew that about him. He was almost as much of a recluse as L and Near, except that he knew it was necessary to go outside sometimes and mingle. He didn't LIKE to confront people, but he knew HOW TO.

"…Lambs to the slaughter. They think if they serve Kira he'll know and embrace them. What a joke. He'll use them like tools at will and then toss them out like trash once they aren't useful anymore. Fools."

"Yeah, but I suppose they'd rather kiss ass and hope for the best than get nailed right off the bat." He stood from the couch, playing his game all the way to the kitchen, hardly glancing away from the screen as he walked. He opened the fridge and grabbed a soda, then after a moment pulled out another bar of my chocolate. He came back over, handing me the candy without a word. I took it and he sat back down, cracking open his drink and taking a swig before he commenced his game. "Anyway, I guess we gotta get to the taskforce if we wanna get to Kira."

"Yes, I know… I may…have a plan for that…" I peeled back the foil on my chocolate. "Matt, I need you to make me another untraceable phone."

**November 17, 2009**

**7:15 p.m.**

In the evening on the 17th, I decided to check up with Halle and see if there had been any developments in the SPK. I was momentarily stuck and unable to move forward effectively. I hated it. I hated being unable to act. I hated being in a rut. I always had.

Damn this, I needed to narrow down the suspects. The closest I'd ever gotten to bringing Kira out in the open was stealing the murder notebook. Now that was back in Japanese hands and I had nothing to manipulate them with... At the very least, the only person who knew my face was dead, so Kira wouldn't know it either...as long as he didn't get his hands on that photograph of me, or find another from any of the Wammy Children. I doubted both of those possibilities, however. I would need to get my photo back though, just to be safe.

Near was in contact with the fake L, and so he was definitely ahead in the race so far... Perhaps that was an understatement, because he also possessed L's inheritance and a federally funded team of professional investigators. I severely lacked advantages, other than my personal knowledge of the notebook. If Halle didn't know who he thought Kira was, then he was either keeping it to himself or she was lying. I would need something big to close the distance and catch up. I would need something colossal to pull ahead. But what? What was I missing?

I had a premature plan but it had to wait. After a few more days I would go back to Halle's house and find out which taskforce member Near suspected… After that, I could plan further…

Matt had constantly been at his games since we moved in. Whether he played online or on one of his numerous platforms, his attention seemed to be absorbed by them. Unless he was running errands I ordered him to, he was gaming. He virtually lived on that fucking couch of his. He came up with new games out of nowhere, beating them in mere hours and then beating them again faster on harder modes with better scores before he showed up with another new one and repeated the process. How confounding that such tedious, immature ventures could occupy him so fully. If only his deductive intellect came close to his gaming skills, he would rival even L. I would watch him play from time to time, just to let my head focus on something else for a while. He tried to get me to play multiplayer with him, and now and then I would indulge him for brief periods, but I could never last a whole game. Of course, this never discouraged him from asking again later. Why couldn't he just be satisfied with his online groups or himself?

Tonight was the same as every other. He was playing some first-person shooter where he was apparently a space miner trying to kill monsters as he navigated through a derelict ship. I watched him play until 7:00 rolled around, and then I went in the other room and took out my phone. I dialed Hal's number and put the device to my ear, listening. It rang three times before she answered.

"Hello?"

"It's me," I said, knowing my voice was hard to mistake. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, I'm alone," she answered calmly. Her tone didn't seem insincere, but I could hear what sounded like a crowd in the background.

"Are you lying to me already, Halle?" I demanded coolly.

"Well, I'm not technically alone," she said. "What I meant was I'm not under surveillance."

"Where are you?"

"Shopping," she answered. "I wanted new boots. How are you feeling? Do your wounds still hurt?"

"They're fine," I replied brusquely. "I didn't call to make small-talk."

"I know, but I like to hear your voice. What do you want to know?"

"Has Near mentioned any suspects yet?"

"No, not yet… He is definitely suspicious of the taskforce. He basically accused them of being connected to Kira because they worked with him to attack you." I knew that much. "We've kind of been in a stand-still ever since the notebook incident though, to tell you the truth." As I figured.

"So that's all he's mentioned so far?"

"He has mentioned that he believes you're alive, and that he's hoping you'll be a source of information." I frowned hard. "He's sure you'll get active again and stir things up."

"He's always thought that way." I pondered. "So the investigation is going nowhere on your part?"

"Basically." I heard clothing shuffling in the background. "I can hardly hear in this place… I'm going to the dressing room, okay? It'll be quieter in there."

"Fine."

The line went quiet except for the din of the background, then got progressively quieter, and a minute or two later she returned. "Okay, this is much better."

"You're sure Near hasn't bugged your clothing?"

"He hasn't said anything like that… I'm pretty certain he would tell me first… He never forces anyone to do anything they aren't willing to do."

"You're right." I heard fabric shuffle again. Was she buying clothes now? "Is there any other information you can give me?"

"I'm sorry, but there isn't much to tell. Near suspects the taskforce and distrusts L. They don't get along very well at all. That's as much as I've noticed…but it's only been a few days." That was true. I was impatient and anxious to get moving. Perhaps I would simply need to wait for developments to arise. I hated to wait, but sometimes it was simply necessary. "Mello? What are you thinking?"

"That's none of your concern," I answered.

"I'm trying to help you," she reminded me. "I'm sorry I'm not being very useful, but we'll all have to be patient, I suppose."

"I'm going now," I said.

"Maybe we could meet somewhere to discuss things. I'm not being watched, and you can pick the place."

Why was she so agreeable? Was she trying to dupe me? Was she a spy? "That won't be necessary. It doesn't sound like you have much to discuss."

"I suppose not, but I'd like to see you. I didn't see much of your face when we met, and I'm not sure how bad your wounds are."

"Quit worrying needlessly," I sneered. "I'm alive and walking, so you have nothing to be concerned over. Nothing."

She sighed softly. "Okay, Mello. I'll talk to you soon then."

I hung up and rubbed my hand over the good side of my face. This woman was increasingly perplexing. I returned to the living room, finding him playing a different game already. This time he was a hooded warrior leaping around the roofs of buildings and sneaking up on men so he could stab them. He was playing this game upside-down on the couch, his ashtray already stuffed. I walked over to stand behind the sofa.

"Anything new?" he asked absently, the smoke from his cigarette drifting in a constant grey ribbon above him.

"No developments," I replied. "I'll give Near two more days… Things are getting worse in the media… Kira has been too active… He'll have a suspect soon enough."

"You two have always known each other better than anybody else," he mentioned. "I bet he knows what you're going to do."

"You don't need to remind me," I snapped. "I know he'll expect it, and I'm halfway counting on it."

"Man, I didn't really care about that kid…but he always had the most awesome toys." He was still playing as he talked, and had the volume so loud I could just barely hear him. "I bet he still plays with them… I bet he wastes half L's money on them…"

I shook my head, wondering why he never devoted serious thought to anything relevant or useful. I rubbed my shoulder, knowing I hadn't changed my bandages since yesterday, so I decided now would be a good time. "Matt, stop with that and change my bandages."

"Hnn?" he moaned through his pursed lips.

"Get up and change my bandages," I repeated impatiently.

"Oh. Okay." His character leapt onto the roof of a building and then he paused the game, flipping over off the couch and staggering to his feet. "Whoa, blood rush…"

"You never learn, do you?" I griped. He shrugged and we headed to the bathroom. I unzipped my vest and removed it, then pulled my rosary over my head and my gloves off my hands. I set them aside and started to peel back the medical tape and unwind the gauze.

"Want me to do that?"

"I can handle it," I snapped. "I didn't break my fucking arms."

He shrugged and finished off the cigarette he was smoking, snuffing it out on the sink. "Just trying to make myself useful."

"You'll have to try harder than that," I scoffed, getting all the bandages off my torso and starting on my face. I removed them and then brushed my hair back from my cheek, feeling the texture there. It was continually improving in feel, closing over with layers of scar tissue. I glanced at the mirror, unable to see myself from this angle. I didn't want to move and see my reflection. "How do these look?"

He bit the middle fingertip of his glove and yanked it off, then he reached up to wipe my hair back more. His fingers sifted through my blonde tresses, curling against my scalp to hold them there. My stomach clenched at the contact, but I bit my tongue and let him inspect my face. He pulled his goggles down to get a better look.

"They look a lot better… These ones on your face are pretty much scarred over… They're really pink and red, and there's a lot of dead skin, but the scabs are almost gone." He leaned down and looked over the ones on my shoulder and chest, brushing his bare fingertips over them. Inexplicably, his touches raised every hair on my body.

I shoved him away abruptly. "I told you to look-not touch!"

"Sorry." He shrugged again and stood straight. "Anyway, they look much better. You are seriously some kinda god, man."

I rolled my eyes and exhaled, shaking my head as I sat down on the edge of the cracked bathtub. "Just wrap them up." He cleaned them with alcohol and cotton swabs before he wiped on ointment and wrapped them up with fresh gauze. It stung a lot less than before, which was definitely a good thing. I had even gone for over a day without taking Ibuprofen, so I was definitely getting stronger, and the fear of infection had passed.

"Feel okay?"

"Yeah. I haven't taken any meds in a while, but I'm starting to get sore again from all this moving around."

"I'll get you some." He left and returned with a bottle of water and some pills. I took them as he watched.

"Leave me alone, already. Why are you hovering?"

"...Waiting to see if you needed anything else."

"Yeah-for you to get out of my face."

"Fine, fine… I'm gone. Take it easy."

He strolled out of the bathroom and I leaned my back against the wall, letting the cold tile soothe my hot skin. I just wanted to be done with all of this. I wanted to crush Near's smug face under my boots and claim Kira's head for myself. I wanted to be free, to be my own man living my own life. I wasn't comfortable with being trapped, ever, but I metaphorically was at the moment. I couldn't flee from this, even though it was possible to escape. I could run away, but to me, that would mean failure, and failure was not an option. I had to move forward, had to see my ambitions fulfilled-or else die. Those were the only choices before me. I had to rise to accomplish my goals. There would be no backing down, not against this opponent, not for what was at stake: L's honor and my personal satisfaction. I would not abandon either. I would not run away.

No matter the cost.


	8. Chapter 7

**+Part 7+**

**November 17, 2009**

**12:09 a.m.**

Matt was actually watching television and not playing a game on it when I came back out into the living room. Apparently there was some "big race" on, where men from around the world competed in a high-speed drifting competition. Of course, this didn't stop him from playing on his PSP during commercials. I let him watch, doing my usual check of all my online Kira sources. The international news didn't mention any sort of updates, and Sakura TV repeated the same old ass-kissing "Lord Kira" drivel. The chatrooms were as noisy and senseless as ever. I really wasn't going to get anywhere without new developments… I was debating on when to show up in Halle's apartment again… Two or three days sounded good, but there was also the worry of Near anticipating my move and installing surveillance in her condo. Maybe I should act sooner? But that didn't give Near much time to come up with anything new. I would have to be patient…but not TOO patient.

"You douchebag!" I heard Matt grumble. "C'mon! Pump the clutch, pump the clutch! For fuck's sake…!" He was sprawled on the couch with his back propped against one armrest and his boot propped on the other. He had a large sack of flavored potato chips on his chest, a bottle of beer between his legs, and a full ashtray balanced on the cushion beside him. He smoked like a chimney, blowing through six cigarettes during only the first half of the race. In-between large drags he would dig into the chip bag and stuff his face with a handful of the snacks. There were crumbs and grease stains all over his striped shirt.

"You disgust me," I commented.

He didn't seem to hear. "Can you believe this n00b?" he asked, not particularly talking to me. "He's grinding his fucking gears!" He stuffed another handful of chips in his mouth and bitched with it full, spewing crumbs. "Can't turn worth a shit! He's goddamn Japanese! They INVENTED drifting!" He chewed hurriedly and swallowed, taking another puff. "Epic fail…"

He was such a moronic slob. Was his usefulness really worth my headaches? I rubbed my temples and took some Ibuprofen, finishing off a bottle. I ate my chocolate eagerly, holding the bar in my teeth as I typed. I grew bored of even the insightful chat and signed off, shoving the makeshift computer desk away. I would have to be patient, however difficult that was for me. In contrast, sitting around and doing absolutely nothing productive was Matt's specialty. Given a choice, he would do only that. I almost envied the coolness of his demeanor. He was always calm, always uncaring. He lacked passion for anything other than meaningless fantasies. I didn't think I would ever understand him.

He dug around in the bag again and stuffed his face with greasy chips. He complained about his driver a few more times before there was a commercial and then he licked his fingers all over and started to play his PSP again.

"Matt…" I began.

"Hnnn?" he hummed, thumbs tapping rapidly.

"…Tell me what you really thought about L."

"Mmm? What? L?"

"Yes. What did you really think about L? You remember, right, the first time we ever met him?"

"Yeah… Roger and Watari took the smartest, most gifted kids into a room and opened up a laptop..."

"That calligraphic L appeared on the screen… It was almost ghostly, and then L's distorted voice came through the speakers. He told us justice was more personal than universal. He told us to live our lives our own way, the way we wanted, and to follow our own sense of justice."

"Yeah… I remember what he said." He paused his game and flicked off the TV, even though his race wasn't yet over. He tossed the chips on the coffee table and swung his feet onto the floor. He took a swig of beer and then lit a fresh cigarette, puffing it for a while before he spoke again. "I hate adults," was what he said. "I always have. I never listen to them, because they always think they know what's best when they really only know what other adults have told them. They're numb to the world, sick of it, so they try to ruin it for everyone else. Can't trust them. So when I first heard about L, I just figured he was another soggy adult. I wasn't planning on really listening. All the other kids were asking practical questions, and I listened to him answer like a robot… I wasn't sure, but I could swear he sounded bored."

"Yes… I stayed against the wall, listening."

"I tuned it mostly out until I walked right up to the computer and asked him why he thought he had the right to police the world. The other kids stared at me, but then he answered… He said he did it for himself-he did what he wanted, when he wanted, and didn't much care about the world in particular. The other kids stared at the screen, all gone quiet… But that was the exact moment I started to admire him. I had this feeling that he wasn't an adult at all-but a kid like us. That's when I decided I would listen to him."

I licked my chocolate. "I listened to it all," I said. "When he said to live life by your own rules…it hit me. You're the only one who asked an insolent question…practically insulting L…and I didn't ask any questions at all. Maybe that's why he chose us. Near didn't ask questions either… He solved three Rubix Cubes in the dark while we were in there…but I think L's answer to your question affected Near as much as it did you and me. L wasn't just another adult trying to boss us around… He was like us. He was a solitary, selfish kid."

"Yeah." Matt took another drink of beer. "I left when I did because I was sure L didn't need me. You and Near were more than enough to make sure his legacy was carried on. I was just backup…a fail-safe. I wanted to live life my own way, outside of that place. I was so sick of Roger and all the other caretakers cramping me all the time… I wanted to be free, so I left."

"I stayed to beat Near," I replied, cracking off a piece of chocolate. "But I didn't make it to the top before L died… Roger actually suggested he and I work together to be the new L."

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, right. That's like telling Mario and Bowser to work together."

"What?" I raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. "Where do you come up with this shit?"

"Never mind…" he sighed. "Why're you so interested in what I think, all of a sudden? You never cared before."

"I still don't care," I corrected. "I'm just trying to profile you. Nothing seems to bother you… You didn't even seem too bothered when I told you L was dead."

"It bothered me," he said, shrugging. "But what am I gonna do? Cry over it? I admired L. He was the only person I ever admired in my entire life, and that's the truth. It was his choice to risk his life over catching Kira, so he died doing what he wanted. He's dead, and that's that. I don't think he would've wanted me to risk my life to bring his killer to justice-but he would have wanted me to live my life how I wanted. He would have wanted me to pursue my own path, just like him. And that's what I did."

"You didn't pursue anything," I protested. "All you did was follow me when I asked."

"That IS my path, Mello," he argued. I was raising my chocolate to my mouth to take another bite, but his comment stopped me. "If you need me, then I'm here. I'll have as much fun along the way, but in the end, your goal is my goal. I'm living my life the way I want, so I'm sure that's good enough for honoring L."

I finished placing the edge of the bar in my mouth and broke it off, chewing slowly. "Are you serious, Matt?"

"Sure," he said dismissively. "I always followed you, even when we were kids. I hated going outside, but you always dragged me out the door anyway. I hated studying and solving cases, but I did because you told me to." He shrugged again, smoking in the silence that followed. "Anyway, you got a plan yet?"

"…I have the beginnings of one…but I can't execute it just yet… I'll wait a little longer and see if anything develops."

"Waiting must be driving you crazy," he observed. "You always hated waiting. If the other kids took too long in the lunch line, you shoved them out of the way until you were up front. It was pretty funny."

"Well, I didn't shove you, so you'd better be grateful."

"Sure I am." He turned the TV back on after that, just in time to be obnoxiously disappointed by his favorite driver losing. He finished off the beer and grabbed another one, opening it. He took a drink and then whipped out one of his numerous cell phones. "You want your own large, or just a medium?" he asked me.

"Are you ordering pizza again?"

"Yeah, so? You want everything on it but olives, right?"

I sighed. He could live off nothing but junk food, pizza, and beer. "Fine. Just a medium."

He punched in the numbers and ordered the pizzas to be delivered. He really did hate going anywhere for anything. He had all his games over-night shipped and all his food delivered. He was almost as much of a recluse as Near, except that he tolerated the outdoors much better. I didn't think Near had ever really seen the sunlight except through a window, partly due to his delicate physical condition, but Matt had pretty much learned all his social skills through online gaming, so he was a little better at it than Near. I of course liked to get things done personally, so I was more willing to mingle with crowds, even if the interacting on my part was mostly orders and intimidation. I was resigned to the fact that my people skills were more on the bullying side, because that was how I got things done, and got them done right.

The pizzas took over an hour to arrive, considering our location, and once there was a knock on the door he paused the new game he'd started on his Nintendo Wii and hopped off the couch. He paid the delivery guy and then kicked the door shut behind him. He tossed the boxes on the coffee table, piling them over the already collected heaps of snack wrappers and chip bags. He opened his box and pulled out a slice, tipping his head back to jam half a whole slice in his jaws.

"You don't have to eat like a pig," I commented, opening my own box and taking out a slice.

"This is how I always eat," he said, his voice muffled because he was still chewing.

"I know, and I don't know why it's necessary. You eat like you're always in a hurry, and you never are."

He shrugged and stuffed the rest in his mouth, chomping anxiously before he suckled his greasy fingers and started playing the game again.

**November 18, 2009**

**11:59 p.m.**

I was browsing the chatrooms and news sites the next day, tuning out the sound of explosions from Matt's game. I had forced him to wake up early today because I couldn't stand his snoring anymore. He grumbled and complained and then ate a pack of pop tarts and started playing a game. Blundering idiot. I wasn't expecting to see any substantial developments, but a news flash appeared around 8:00 a.m. announcing that the U.S. Vice President would be holding a live press conference at 12:00 p.m. Apparently, it would be televised worldwide, so it was definitely important, and thus most likely about Kira. I checked the time and saw that it was just turning the hour.

"Matt, turn that shit off!"

"Wha?" he muttered.

"Now, damn it!"

"Hold on… Lemme get to a save point…"

"No! I told you about the press conference hours ago! Turn it the fuck off NOW!"

"God, okay, okay!" He paused it and tossed the controller, then got up.

"Turn it back to regular local television!"

"Okay… Chill out." He searched around for the remote, taking his sweet fucking time, and changed it to a local network. The Vice President of the United States, George Sairas, was there on the screen, standing in for the late President David Hoope, whom Kira and I had threatened to the point of suicide. I had just caught the end of his statement on the elimination of the U.S. Mafia at the hands of Kira. I knew in truth that only the known Mafia members had been killed by Kira, which accounted for the majority, certainly. But, the secret agents of the trade, such as the weapons cartel I had ties with, didn't technically exist, and so were keeping what little remained of the Mafia barely alive. They didn't much operate in the ways of brutal crime, just smuggling and such, and so remained more under the radar. It was a good thing too, since I would need what little connections I had left. "The Vice President looks about as tough as a three-year-old girl," Matt commented.

"You got that right," I said, tearing off the edge of the foil wrapping on my chocolate bar. "David Hoope held his own against threats from all sides, and in the end he killed himself just to prevent Kira from using him to do something terrible. He really was a fine President, especially compared to this guy." I listened to the Vice President continue his speech.

"…We, the United States of America…" Could it be? Would he actually say it? I had little doubt. "…have decided to accept Kira, and will do nothing to stand in Kira's way. I intend to suggest this to the other world leaders in the next world summit." I knew it.

"Whoa," Matt said, "what a pussy."

I cracked off a large hunk of chocolate. I knew this would happen sooner rather than later. After all the Mafia deaths…after Hoope's suicide…it was inevitable. I kept listening as the reporters demanded an explanation, asking if Sairas thought Kira was righteous. He responded as tentatively as a child. "Righteous…? That is not what I said. But, owing to Kira's powers, war is now a thing of the past. And organized crime in the United States, as well as other countries, is on the brink of being wiped out. We've also found out that the President's death is connected to his attempts to capture Kira." I was positive the SPK was watching this as well. They would soon be done for, at least officially. "If we go directly against Kira, we'll be killed, and that is a proven fact. That is why our government has been evasive concerning Kira. But our country will come to a standstill if the head of the nation changes every time we try to capture Kira. We are not accepting Kira as righteous…we're just not taking any actions as a country to try to capture Kira." There was a barrage of protests and outrage from the reporters, many of them demanding that Sairas personally defy Kira on television to prove himself…while other reporters agreed with his decision and spoke out about following Kira.

I scoffed and bit off another chunk of candy. "Turn it off, Matt. I've heard enough."

"You sure? It's getting kinda funny."

"Yes, I'm sure… Just go back to playing your game."

"Can do, Boss," he remarked and commenced to doing so.

This didn't bode well at all… Soon other countries would follow suit with America and bow to Kira…and it would become ever more increasingly difficult for me to hide. I had covered my tracks well… The Japanese Police's biggest hope was finding me through hospitals, but since I had avoided going to one, I was still hidden. Kira knew my name but not yet my face. As long as I didn't show anyone connected to Kira my face…I would stay alive. I could definitely trust the SPK not to betray me to Kira, but I couldn't trust them to stay hidden from Kira forever. If he found them, then he would find my photo… That was the only picture of me left… I had time before Kira made it to the SPK…didn't I? I couldn't risk waiting much longer to close in… I would have to go back to see Halle sooner than planned… Tomorrow? No, still too soon… I needed to give Near more time to tell the SPK of his suspicions… But not too much time to where he would anticipate my plan and prepare counter measures for it...

"Hey, what's up, Mello?"

I looked up, shaking myself from my contemplation. He hadn't yet started the game. It was still on the menu screen and he was just holding the controller. "I'm just thinking about what to do next," I told him.

"What's the plan?"

"…Near's taskforce will definitely fall apart without the support of the U.S. government… He'll have to go into hiding soon and continue the investigation independently, I'm almost 100% sure of that. It would be better if I could confirm that first, however, and then get information out of them before they disappear... I'll have to move a little sooner than I'd planned…but the question is whether that will give Near enough time to fester… Hopefully it won't be enough time for him to prepare for my move."

"I hope it works out. Things keep getting more complicated… The U.S. will probably start to publicly support Kira soon, and it'll be tough to operate."

"I know, but we'll have to endure."

"…Are you worried, Mello?"

"Worrying is useless," I sneered. "I'm alert, that's all. I'll have to go about this as cautiously as possible…"

"I know you hate being cautious." I sighed and nodded. "But, y'know, Mello…you can't find Kira if you're dead." I lifted my gaze to him, but he had started his game finally.

**November 18, 2009**

**6:00 p.m.**

That very evening, there was to be another press conference concerning the future of the United States, regarding Kira. I had to yell at Matt again to shut down his game so I could watch the local channel. It was announced live on worldwide television that George Sairas was the new President, and that he had officially disbanded the secret organization called the SPK, which the former President created to capture Kira. That was the confirmation I needed, and I was well aware that it was probably Near's plan to have it announced so soon. Near probably arranged it as bait for me… Was I reading too much into it? But why else would the President announce the disbandment of an unknown organization? This had to be a trap for me. Did that mean he'd already taken steps to prepare for my next move? Had he gotten to Halle? Would she play along and betray me?

Either way, I had no choice. I couldn't act unless I found a suspect to focus on… I had to risk it. Tomorrow. I would see Halle again tomorrow…

"It's been like a whole day since you changed your bandages," Matt observed from his spot on the sofa. "Want me to handle it?"

"Just play your stupid fucking game and stay out of it," I barked, not in the lightest of moods. "I can do it myself now." The weak-willed coward President was just making things even more difficult than they already were. My back was getting increasingly closer to the wall. Soon I would be trapped in a corner-a place I never liked to be, however good I was at escaping it.

I fumed silently at what brooded before me as I stalked to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning on the light. I unzipped my leather vest and removed it, setting it down on the edge of the tub, and then unwound the gauze on my torso. I refused to look at it in the mirror until I peeled back the tape on my face and unwound the gauze there too. I let it all collect in piles on the tile at my feet, glancing across the sink to find the scissors. I snipped off the final piece of taped-over gauze covering my eye, and then let it fall.

I took a deep breath, clenching my hands into fists, nearly crushing the scissors in one of them. It was time to face it. I had to be completely healed by now… Would it look better or worse? I had known it would come to this. I had thought I would be prepared. I blew that base knowing what could happen, and I had long ago resolved that I would do whatever it took to put Kira in his grave…so why am I hesitating now?

"Damn it!" I hissed, and lifted my head, widening my eyes to stare at my reflection. My teeth grinded against each other, sounding terribly loud in my ears. The grimy glass revealed it all-blatantly vivid to me through the dusty surface. "Goddamn it!" I yelled, grabbing the pair of scissors tighter in my clutches and hurling them into the mirror. It cracked with the impact, sending tiny chips of glass spraying all over the sink and countertop. I grimaced, refusing to take off my gloves because I had an overwhelming urge to touch my grotesque blemishes. I didn't want to feel their horrid pattern with my own hands.

They were worse than I ever imagined! They destroyed most of my face and a third of my torso, from a portion of my ribs all the way up to my pectoral, and all of that shoulder and upper arm. It extended onto that side of my neck, and the left half of my face from jaw-line to forehead. The skin was uneven and discolored with snaking trenches of raggedly healed pink and brown scar tissue. My eyebrow was singed right off and the skin had melted and pooled, healing unevenly around my eyelid. My cheek was like a patchwork of dead flesh, all interlocking haphazardly, revolting to the eyes.

I hated it! I had thought it might improve-but it was even worse now that it was healed! When it was still healing, still scabbing, still scarring, it gave the illusion of improvement, of possible recovery, but now it was final. Seeing it now…absent of blood and puss and blisters, devoid of scabs, it hit me full force that this was all it could ever become. At last it sunk in that this was permanent.

This is what I look like now, what I will always look like. This can never be altered. I can never go back and heal over again, and I can never go to a plastic surgeon or a specialist. This is me now-this is me forever!

I sensed him there before I heard the door creak open and his boots clomp on the linoleum tiling. "…Mello?"

"Go away!" I shouted uncontrollably, and on reflex slapped my hand over the left side of my face. I turned swiftly away from the mirror so he couldn't even glimpse me between the portions of desecrated glass. "Go the hell away!"

"What happened?" he asked, his voice almost giving off the illusion of concern.

"Nothing happened! Just do what I say! Leave!"

"Why did you kill the mirror…?"

He went quiet for a few moments as I struggled to keep my fuming breath under control, but then he ventured closer, shuffling through the piles of unwound bandages at my feet. I heard glass crunch beneath his boots. I was still wearing my pants, boots, gloves, and my rosary around my neck, and even had my gun still shoved down the front of my belt, but despite all that, I was feeling far too exposed with him standing there. I hated that! For the first time, I couldn't bear his eyes on me!

"What's wrong, man?" he asked, this time right behind me.

"What's wrong?" I curled my fingers against my face, clenching my bangs at the roots and tugging. "I'm a fucking freak, that's what! It's…! It's worse than…!" I shook my head violently. "Just leave me alone!"

"Let me see," he said.

The audacity of the suggestion! "No! Fuck off!"

"I've been the one dressing your wounds the whole time, remember? I've seen it before. I've seen it at its worst, even." He pointed it out so nonchalantly in that cool tone of his. It wasn't emotionless like Near's, or suspicious like L's, it was just relaxed…perfectly at ease with every word. It had the potential to soothe me if I ever allowed it. But I didn't.

"So what? That doesn't mean I want you to see it ever again!" I shoved him into the sink cabinet and barged past him through the door. I hurried down the hall and into my room, slamming the door in order to escape. I just wanted to roll myself up in the sheets and never be seen again. I would continue to grow out my hair and shun the light of day. I didn't want to even be glanced at in passing. I made it to the bed after hearing the door rattle loudly on its hinges, but he threw it open again right after, following me. "Get the fuck out!"

"It can't be that bad, Mello," he began, walking closer behind me.

I kept my back to him, my shoulders rigid, my ragged yellow hair clasped in my fists. "You don't know shit! For the last time, get out!"

"So…what?" he said, more firmly. "I'm just supposed to NOT look at you ever again?"

"Yes! If that's what I order you to do, then you'll do it!" I barked ferociously, hoping to agitate his calm demeanor in order to somehow ease my own helpless rage. "You do what I say when I say! That's how it's always been, you worthless bastard!"

"Shit, man, you can't hide from the whole world forever."

"I can do whatever I want!"

"Let me see it," he insisted.

"Just drop it! I'll have to deal with it eventually but right now just leave it alone! Nothing can be done, damn it! Nothing!"

"Then why're you so upset?"

"You wouldn't need to ask that stupid question if it was your own goddamn face!"

"Just let me see."

"No, goddamn you! I don't want to be anywhere near you right now, so for the last time, get the fuck out!" There was a brief pause and then he stomped away and the door slammed shut. Good. I sighed hard, lowering my hands from my face and sighing steeply, unsteadily. I saw his gloves land on the floor next to me a moment later and so I whirled around, knocking right into his chest. How had he snuck up on me? "Shit, what the hell are you-"

He grabbed my hair in a bare fist and jerked my mouth up and against his, shocking my eyes wide in confusion.

For a whole ticking second I was frozen and then my left hand went for the Beretta in my belt. I jammed the muzzle of the gun into his temple while he kissed me, making him pull away just enough for me to glare at him. I flicked off the safety dynamically.

"What the flying fuck are you DOING?" I demanded viciously.

He wasn't the least bit fazed "Nothing anymore," he remarked, still close enough to bathe my nostrils in the acrid scent of smoke. I could taste the gritty ash of it on my lips.

I jammed the end of the gun harder into his temple, making him flinch a little. "Smartass-what WERE you doing?"

"Proving I don't mind how you look," he answered. I observed the serenity of his eyes showing through his orange lenses. He still had a fist in my hair and now he persuaded the whole front of my body closer to him by it. I was amazed by his boldness with me. He drank in my face with his goggled eyes, up and down, never wavering at the sight. It made something in my body recoil-and not in revulsion. "In fact," he said, lower, "I kinda like it, Mello."

"How tight ARE those goggles?" I snapped in disbelief, digging the muzzle through his rumpled red locks. "Let go of me."

"You never minded me touching you before," he said, still not moving, still not affected by the very real threat of the loaded Beretta. There was a bullet already in the chamber, ready to fire. I just had to pull the trigger and his brain would be soup.

"Have you lost your senses? Of course I minded! Back the fuck off!"

"No, I mean way before, back at Wammy's House."

"What?" I blinked up at him in momentary bewilderment.

"Don't tell me you forgot."

"…We were just kids!" I felt myself getting red in the face, a mixture of fury and something else totally unfamiliar. He shrugged. "Why bring that up all of a sudden? Why won't you just leave me alone?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I am telling you to, Matt!"

He nodded. "You're right. Any other time I would be your obedient slave and not argue," he told me, still pressed up against me, still in danger of gaining a fresh hole for his brains to leak from. "But even I have limits. I really don't like waiting, it gets too boring-and I've been waiting for years already."

"What are you talking-" He pulled my face to his again, risking a bullet, and this time he filled my mouth with his tongue. He rolled it inside once before I managed to snag the collar of his shirt in my free hand and push him away violently. In a flash I stuffed the gun into his insubordinate maw, half-snarling with the outrage. "Back off, you crazy bastard! What are you thinking?" He stared down the gun as it was jammed in his mouth.

Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and elbow, jerking my gun from his mouth and pointing it harmlessly away, then moved back against me, so quickly I couldn't counter. I was downright surprised by the skillful maneuver and his daring by inflicting it on me. He smirked right in my face as our legs met at the thigh.

"You know, I could use my mouth for something ELSE…" His top row of teeth showed from the innuendo.

I glared at him, still angry, still outraged, still stupidly shocked by his disobedience. I'd never been this flabbergasted before, and so I had difficulty responding. He was determined to stand up to me and get his way all of a sudden. Where had this initiative materialized from? Where did he find such determination-he, the laziest, most unmotivated person to ever grace Wammy's House, or possibly the world?

Slowly, I lowered the weapon to my side. "…You've gone mad."

He glanced at the gun before he looked back at me, taking the time to lift his goggles off of his eyes and set them on his head, mussing his long bangs and revealing that foggy clover-green I hardly ever saw. "Maybe, but if I have it's your fault," he retorted.

He moved back in, our fists still in their places-his in my hair and mine in his shirt-and for some reason neither of us was releasing the other. His tongue returned to lick around and then invade my mouth, sending a wave of heat down through my nerves. My finger twitched on the trigger of my gun and warnings resounded through my head. He was too close, I didn't want to be touched, I didn't even want to be seen ever again! But something else let him. Was it just my body reacting at this point? Usually my brash emotions got the better of me-but this time no. This time it was something new, something I had never experienced, something purely…physical.

Would I be able to overcome it?

I did remember, all those years ago, back at the orphanage. I had never liked anybody to touch me, ever. Maybe it was because my dad, or whoever that drunken man was, beat me when I was very small...? Or maybe because...? Who could really say? The only person I admired, L, never willingly touched anyone except out of pretense, and I was pretty sure he had never laid a hand on me in affection. Roger hated kids and exerted every effort not to touch them. The only person I had let give me an encouraging pat now and then was Watari, although I only tolerated it because he was a kind, intelligent man. Other than that I just pushed the other kids to the ground or stole their snacks or broke their toys. I was a bully, always had been. Because it worked. To get my way, I would do anything it took. I lived my life outside of authority and unheeding of rules or consequences. I wasn't warm or friendly, and I never let people in-never even let them get close.

But I had let Matt touch me. I had let him get close, closer than anyone else had ever been allowed to get, even if it was meager. We were just young, curious kids playing around with no reasons… It had been a game, but I hadn't minded it then, even if I didn't really understand it… Maybe I was enjoying it now, maybe I wasn't, but either way I was letting him get away with it. Was I going to change my mind in time?

He encouraged me backwards, folding my legs over the edge of the bed to trip me onto the mattress. My backside hit it and a spark of anger flew through me at the move, but it was interrupted when he set one of his knees between mine and bent over me, stretching his arms on either side of me to place them on the sheet.

"What's gotten into you, Matt?" I questioned grimly, flicking the safety of the gun back on but still keeping hold of it, reassuring myself with the security it provided by feeling its shape. His face was nearly touching mine, and I attempted to lean away. The ends of his shaggy hair were in contact with my forehead. "We really don't have time to fool around like this," I insisted, trying to deter him from his proximity. I knew my voice was heavily irritated, tainted with impatience.

"There's always time to fool around," he replied easily enough. I scoffed at his remark. "Don't worry so much."

"I can't be as laid back as you."

"I know, but I'm not saying to be. I'm just saying…relax for a little while. You don't always have to be on edge. That won't help anything."

He nudged me back by my chest, shoving me onto the sheet and plucking up the silver crucifix of my rosary. He held it in his teeth to keep it out of the way as he let his bare fingertips glide over my skin. I felt, for the first time, that his hands were slightly callused... My flesh tightened all over, for some reason. He circled my nipple with his index finger, making me flinch underneath him.

"Damn it," I hissed. Why? Why under God was I letting him do this…? Why wasn't I throwing him off and beating his face in? What's more, why wasn't I hating this?

He smiled briefly before he used his other hand. It felt…good. Him caressing my bare, heating skin felt good, but I didn't want to admit it, nor would I. He seemed to be inspecting the way my skin felt, hesitating for a few seconds before he began to trace along the edge of my burn scar that coiled in ridges down my shoulder and pectoral. I cringed at the contact there. He tossed the length of my rosary over my shoulder, out of his path.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked, his green eyes steady on me, watching my face to see my reactions, as always lazily. His voice was just as lazy, though firmer than usual.

"No," I managed to answer through clenched teeth, having to look away from him as he touched me and gazed steadily into my eyes as he did so. He hardly ever made eye contact with me, actually, or with anyone. He seemed so…comfortable doing this though, which surprised me, especially considering how tautly I was clenching my muscles in anxiety.

"That's good," he said. His fingertips commenced to roaming my scarred wounds, outlining the wrecked trenches of rough, discolored tissue. He indeed didn't seem at all put off by it. Without a word or a pause, his fingers continued to rove upwards along the serpentine marks on my neck and still further up onto my face. I had been holding my breath but now I flinched angrily, unable to prevent it when he touched me there. I scoffed immediately at my own weakness, hating to show it to him. Why did I keep doing so? "You said it doesn't hurt, so are you ashamed?" he asked.

I bared my teeth and still refused to look him in the eye. "Matt…?"

"Yeah?" he muttered, his bare, warm hand still pressed to the scarred half of my face.

I could not seem to lash out at him, hard as I tried. Instead, I found myself shrugging it off, trying to overlook it so I could think of a way out. "If you're planning to do something, get on with it," I hissed. "I don't want to hear your mouth flapping right now."

"Whatever you say, Boss... How about I do something else with my mouth?"

He lowered himself over me, stretching one arm above my head and bearing himself up by the other. He started at my neck, kissing and dabbing with his tongue all along my scars, leaving wet trails as he traveled down across them. I felt my innards lurch upward, starting my heart racing. I couldn't explain it. When he made it to my chest he started to nibble. He worked his tongue, teeth, and lips all over my burns, clutching at the heat as it rose in my skin and pricking against my intolerance all at once. I forced myself to withhold the urge to throw him off, so I wouldn't seem overly affected by his mood swing. Why was he doing this with no explanation? Of course, he never explained anything if he wasn't required, and he never spoke much, especially nothing serious. The only time he talked was when he yelled at the television, or when I made him-both of which were seldom. This wasn't making any sense, and I hated that, but I wasn't stopping it!

"Stop touching it," I demanded fiercely, shocked by how feeble my breathing sounded. I pretended not to notice.

"Why? Embarrassed?"

"Shut up and quit touching it!"

"Fine, fine. I'll just have to touch something else."

"What?" I demanded. "What are you..."

His hand fell across my stomach, making the muscles there flex against him without my consent. I thought I saw him half-smile, but then his hand continuing on lower distracted me. He clasped my thigh, rubbing over it briefly, making my heart stutter. All of a sudden his hand slid to cup between my legs, making my every nerve-ending jolt in shock and fire.

"What the fuck, Matt?" I yelled, in spite of the stimulus.

"I'm just following orders like a good bitch," he told me, smirking fully now as he began to rub there, circling my crotch, chafing the tender flesh below with the texture of leather.

I cringed at the pleasant tingling beginning to creep upward from my groin. "What-orders?" I growled.

"The orders your body's giving." He snapped loose my belt-buckle in a jerk and then yanked the white leather free from the loops rather violently, tossing it over his shoulder dismissively right after.

"Matt," I cautioned, but was ignored when he unraveled the drawstrings of my pants, and then the callused warmth of his hand groped its way inside the tight leather. He enveloped me bare, skin on skin. "Shit!" I gasped, pressing my head into the mattress.

"See? I'm reading you loud and clear, apparently."

"Shut up…!" He fondled me, the edge of his lip curving into an even slyer smirk, like he was proud of himself. "Damn…you!" He leaned down while his hand stroked, starting to lick my face, dragging a wet line across the disfigured surface. "Damn it…!" He kept going, burying his whole face in my neck and charting the ragged contours of scarring. His touches sent shivers through every inch of my body, repeatedly. I hated that the infernal wounds were providing me with pleasure in any way. I didn't want it to feel good but it did; my healing skin was still overly sensitive, all the nerves closer to the surface… Matt was using that fact heavily to his advantage even if he didn't entirely realize it. His hand left my crotch suddenly, inspiring another spark of fury-much to my surprise-but he swiftly moved to his knees on the floor between my legs, pulling my pants further down, and continued what he'd been doing with his tongue and lips.

"F-Fuck-!" I exclaimed, my brain going haywire.

He went down on me, not sparing me a moment's recess. He collected that part of me effortlessly into his mouth, rolling his tongue and coercing me hard in moments, to my astonishment. My hand squeezed around the gun handle brutally, hurting, and I was clamping my other knuckles numb in the sheet as my erection continued to swell. My thighs urged me to crush them around his head as their muscles tightened and tightened, feeling as if they would twist right in half. I let go of the gun and punched the side of my hand into my mouth as I threatened to groan out loud. I bit into the leather of my glove, digging my other fingers harder into the mattress. The stimulation rose and rose—building until I couldn't hold back anymore, not if my life depended on it.

"Matt…!" I growled, an instant before I came in his mouth. I yelled with it, arching my back aggressively, and then fell limp on the bed. I was positively helpless, lying there in the wake of this unprecedented venture. I had never felt so defeated, so utterly conquered-not even after the base exploded. Even as it had disfigured me, it had been by my choice, my own doing. I had planned for it as a last resort and thought I was mentally prepared for the consequences. But this… This had caught me completely and utterly off-guard. This, I had no preparations for. This, I couldn't counter or recalculate. This was…something entirely out of my range of thinking.

I attempted to catch my breath but then he was lying over me, his weight bearing down, and he was kissing me again, hotly and eagerly. I could taste my own salty-sweetness on him. Just how long had he been anxious to pull this little stunt with me? He said he'd been waiting for years, but was that really possible? Matt never waited long for anything, he couldn't stand to. Everything he did had to be quick and easy, except of course for his video games. He didn't like to leave the house or lie in wait or operate at anyone else's pace because it all became too boring for him. So how could he possibly have waited years for anything? And if he had, why did he wait until this exact point? Did he think me approachable for the first time? Was he hoping I would be easy to take advantage of? Was he hoping that because of the way I felt about my face that I would be meek in response to his actions?

Well if that was the case, I wasn't going to wilt and shy away anymore, damn it all! I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of melting under him, the pig! I gave back to his kissing, massaging my tongue forward against his, trying to imitate his actions since I had no idea what I was doing. He responded, lashing out and gripping my hair in both hands, tugging at the roots. It hurt but I ignored it. He opened his eyes to watch me as I reciprocated belligerently, feeling furious but not sure WHOM I was furious with. I was mad because I was confused at my own actions and I didn't like that one bit. For some reason, I wanted to neglect every alarm sounding off in my brain. I didn't want to think, or reason, or ponder. I just wanted to let myself feel this, whatever it was.

All of his strong fingers were tangled in my hair now, his nails digging lightly into my scalp as if he were holding me steadfastly in place, afraid I might punch him away and leave, which is what I SHOULD have been doing. After a few moments he began to hump his groin against mine, keeping me aroused, straining me within the leather. I could feel that hard part of him stroke against me, bulging inside the faded denim of his jeans. Again I lacked the words to describe any of this, and again I didn't want to search for them. I wanted to forget about thinking altogether, and I didn't understand it.

I bit against his lips, making him grunt and move with more speed. My insides clenched, my thighs throbbed, my chest ached, but he didn't stop, and I didn't stop him either. His mouth still occupied mine and I was unable to breathe. I snatched my face away, huffing, frowning, feeling a thread of saliva spread across my chin.

"This is absurd," I sneered. "Didn't you tell me…you were going to be obedient? Didn't you tell me you were devoted to this mission…?"

"What I told you was, I came on this mission because you asked me to, but that doesn't mean I did it for you."

"...What?"

"I did it for me," he said, and grabbed up my shoulders, rolling me and throwing me facedown lengthwise on the thin mattress. I caught myself on reflex with my hands and he peeled his striped shirt over his head and then tossed it off the bed. "It's my turn now."

"Matt," I said under my breath. My rib cage was starting to burn with the onset of fatigue. Even as my body drilled me with the urge to go on, it simultaneously warned me not to overexert myself. I was still recovering from major burn trauma, and until recently had been taking pain meds constantly. I needed to conserve my strength. I needed to be at my best. I had a mission to accomplish. I had plans to carry out. I had to…

To hell with it!

"Watch it," I barked at him snappily. He proceeded to rip my pants off of my hips, baring me to the knees, and immediately after I heard him unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. "Do you even have any clue what you're doing?" I demanded, wanting to stay angry. I suppose it just felt the most natural for me to be furious in such an unnatural situation. Being exposed to him was not comfortable in the least, and I desperately wanted to cover myself and banish him…but still I didn't.

"Nope," he replied, clasping both my hips in his sweaty hands.

"You imbecile," I scowled to conceal my apprehension. "If this turns out as badly as I think, I'm going to—"

"Chill out and you might like it," he told me matter-of-factly. I felt the hot hardness of him spearing against my inner thighs, rubbing, searching. "Hold on," he mumbled, and moments later he was prodding at me there with wet fingers, pushing, breaching me. I cried out through my teeth, my still-gloved fingers clawing into the musty bedding. He must've used his saliva for… "Feel good yet?" he asked from behind me.

"Either do this or talk—" I roared, "—not both!"

"Whatever you say, Boss." He massaged his fingers in and out, wetting my insides, making me shudder with reluctant delight. He moved quicker, and I knew for sure he didn't have a clue.

"Idiot! You're not playing a video game…!"

"Sorry. Trying for the high score." He withdrew his fingers with a short chuckle and then I felt that hardness pressuring me there again, sweltering and solid. "Ready?"

"Just be quiet and get on with it already." I bit my teeth together ferociously, bracing myself for the unknown pain I knew was coming but could never be prepared for. He thrust into me abruptly, forcefully, splitting me with a kind of agony I never imagined. "Shit!" I screamed, bolting my hands forward to snatch the headboard in my fists.

His hands grabbed my hips again and he pushed still further, forcing me open for him, impaling me to the core. Then he started to move, swaying roughly, pumping into me in a savage rhythm I never pictured him capable of using in real life. I wrung my hands on the bars, hearing the leather of my gloves squeak on the brass. I battled to hold my groans in my throat and not let them out. The ancient metal framework of the bed protested his efforts in creaks and battered the naked brick wall. At this rate the whole godforsaken building would know we were fucking!

I tried to call his name, but drool was filling my mouth. I swallowed it. "Matt," I groaned through clenched teeth.

"Hnn, myeah?" he responded, out of breath, still moving on top of me. "What?"

I had to pause to suck in air, tasting blood in my mouth from my teeth tearing so hard into my lips. I swallowed that next, feeling my hands were aching from gripping the headboard so tightly. "Someone will hear," I managed to choke out, losing my will to fight back the noise.

"So what? Let 'em… Who cares…?"

"Obviously not YOU…!" I let my head finally fall between my shoulders and took his thrusts, swallowing more bloody drool, enduring the pain, letting him move me. It hurt like hell, but it was feeling better and better against my volition. My willpower was failing and I was letting it die. It just felt too good to resist. Too good! And dangerously so. How had this happened? What was I allowing? I could never have readied myself for him to do such a thing, but now I didn't seem to want him to stop! "Matt…!"

"What?" His hand departed one of my hips and wandered up along my spine, giving me gooseflesh. He teased his fingers over my scars again, and then grabbed hold of my chest so he could lean down closer. "How's it feeling…? Huh, Mello?"

Bastard! Fucking bastard! He was messing with me! This was a game to him after all, just something to win. I was just the "good ending" he always strived for. What else had I expected? Had I expected anything? How could I have? My mind was lost in a spiral of sick pleasure, clouding my very reason. Fuck it! Stop thinking!

"Don't test me, Matt!" I screamed. "Finish…it!"

"Whatever you want, Boss," he affirmed, and readily obeyed, doubling his efforts, positioning me with his hands and bending so that his next thrusts were deeper. With that, he destroyed my willpower once and for all tonight.

I had to at last open my mouth to let out the deep groans and shuddering gasps, and even a trickle of reddish drool I couldn't withhold. "Nnn…ah! Ah! Hnn…! Ma…!" God, was that my voice...?

"I really like your voice this way," he told me almost instantly, his breath searing on the back of my neck, making my hair stick to me with sweat. "Turns me on."

"M-Matt," I began, spreading my knees wider to get better leverage, taking some of the strain off my rubbery arms. My legs were so hot I couldn't tell if they were numb too or not.

"I know—shut up, right?"

"Right!"

He occupied his mouth instead by licking and sucking the back of my neck, nibbling, moving my curtain of blonde hair hastily aside. His left hand still played along the ridges of my scar-tissue, sending shivers through me repeatedly. He was grid-locking me with pleasure in so many ways and I couldn't contend! His cock, a part of him I never imagined I'd experience, seemed to fill me completely as his roaming hands held me in place against his heaving body. His heated, smoke-tainted breath beat mercilessly down my neck. This had never happened to me before and I didn't know what my reaction should have been, or how I could have possibly acted differently. I couldn't make sense of anything anymore, and I didn't care. I let it go, for once in my life. For the first time, I abandoned thought altogether and felt no desire to recover it.

I couldn't even tell how long this shameful bliss lasted before he finally came, spurting his boiling fluids inside me. He bowed his back and groaned with it, digging his fingernails into me with the act. I almost tore the brass headboard apart like a wild animal as I yelled loudly with my own release, feeling it soar through me so violently I could have easily died from it. My teeth were bloody and my muscles were liquefied. I collapsed, my face sinking in the pillow, my chest thrashing for air, the sweat an encasing second skin on me. I was wet with his fluids and my own.

It took me a second or two to realize he had collapsed on top of me, his face beside mine on the pillow, his breath breezing hotly through my damp hair. His firm chest and belly were cramming me down into the bedding, the fabric of his jeans seeming an almost alien texture amongst his smooth skin. Other than our pair of accelerated lungs functioning rapidly, the entire apartment building was deathly silent for the next few long minutes. Cars rushed by constantly outside, a siren or two blared past, a thudding bass of music from someone's stereo shook the street, but nothing else within.

After a while, once I had gained back my lung capacity, I went to work collecting my tossed-away composure, and perhaps a shred of my dignity. "Get off of me," I growled. "You're heavy."

"Sorry," he answered into my hair. He got up onto his hands and knees, groaning obnoxiously with the action. "Whew," I heard, and then I glanced back, seeing him wipe his face and brow with the back of his hand. "That felt even better than I thought it would," he mentioned. I saw him pull his jeans back over himself and then scoot away, lounging on the bed next to me, exhaling deeply. I pulled my slacks back up as well, feeling the congregation of wetness more closely on me now. I peeled off my gloves and threw them blindly away, then rolled over onto my side to rip off my boots. He shuffled around in his jeans pockets, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He placed a cancer-stick in his mouth and lit up, the flame glowing briefly in the dark of the room. He kicked off his boots finally and leaned back, shirtless. He rested his head comfortably on both arms as he smoked, sighing obnoxiously loudly with the first drag, as if he was relieved.

"Why'd you do this?" I demanded with sudden intense curiosity.

"...Lapdogs do what they're told, remember?"

"I never told you to screw me," I argued.

"Not out loud," he contested.

"What the hell does THAT mean?"

"C'mon, Mello, I know you're not that dense." He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and blew out a cloud of silver. "Why do you think that sexy naked SPK chick didn't turn you on? Why do you think NO chick's ever turned you on? I've known it since we were kids." He put the cigarette back to his lips, inhaling the smoke into his lungs, and then letting it out with another large sigh of relief. "No big deal. In fact, I was counting on it... Waiting, like I said."

What was he insinuating? "That doesn't mean a damn thing! Just because I think with my brain and not my dick? I have better things to do with my time, more important things…!"

"But you let me fuck you. You had time for that." He was partially right. I could have stopped him easily, but I didn't, and that pissed me off. "I've always wanted to try something with you," he admitted, plucking the cigarette from his mouth again and blowing another cloud of smoke like a dragon. "I knew you'd never move first; you're too proud and too stubborn. You think too much…like L did. Don't forget what his life was like... He alienated himself from the world even while he served it. He only had a few hours every few months available to see us, if that. Most of the time it was just through a computer screen. He was always away, always busy, always confined. He hardly even laid a hand on anyone. He understood how people thought so well, but he still never really understood PEOPLE. Even I'm the same way…but not you. You think too much but you're not lost. You're out in the world, a part of it. You GET people… You get how they work, how they feel, not just how they think-even with me. You're complicated, you're above everyone, you always have been. So I knew this sort of thing was outside your understanding… But I'm simple, and I wanted to do this, so I did. You let me, so you wanted me to do it too, even if you don't think so."

"…You don't make any sense." That was the most he'd said willfully in one sitting, ever.

"Guess not." He inhaled and exhaled more smoke, the cinders in the ash burning orange and red in the dark, the scent of it blanketing me.

"I should kill you for pulling this stunt," I informed him.

"Maybe, but you didn't stop me, and you liked it, so if you kill me it'll just be because you're defensive."

I frowned into the dark. "Just be quiet. I want to sleep."

"Okay, Boss."

"...Do you REALLY have to call me that?"

"…How about, 'Aye, Captain' then? Chief? Your Highness?"

I shut my eyes, my head starting to throb. "Boss is fine."


	9. Chapter 8

**+Part 8+**

**November 19, 2009**

**3:37 p.m.**

I woke with my nose prickling from all the scents absorbed by the bedding and staining me. I stretched my fatigued muscles and rubbed my eyes and face. I could still taste blood and smoke thickly on my lips, on my tongue, in my throat. I tried to sit up and found something was weighing me down. I peered over my shoulder, glowering at the sight of the ugly naked scars there, and beyond that saw Matt pressed against me in slumber. One of his arms was slung around my chest and his mouth was open against my neck, letting his breath flow easily through my disheveled hair. He smelled potently of sweat and smoke all over, the pungent semi-sweetness of the nicotine tainting every last strand of red hair with its odor. At this point the smell was so familiar it didn't bother me, although I pretended it did as an excuse to punish him.

I tried to shove him away, only managing to get his arm off of me before he rolled over on his own, groaning unconsciously and mumbling. "Only two more hit points… Need health…" He scratched his bare, hairless chest and licked his lips. In the dull light from the dirty window I bothered to notice how well muscled his arms and torso were, at least considering his slender build. I had known about them, briefly glimpsed them when he changed, but until now had neglected to seriously observe the tattoos scrawling across both his arms. They were chain links and they coiled around his biceps, criss-crossing a few times, and were secured in place with a padlock on each. I didn't get the aesthetic appeal, if there even was one. I also noticed his right ear was pierced twice with simple silver rings. I suppose his hair had always concealed them before. His jeans were wrinkled and sagging low on his hips, still unfastened, showing just a faint glimpse of ginger hair above his wrinkled boxers. His fine body hair was definitely redder than the hair on his head.

I frowned and looked away, returning to the satisfied repose of his face. Satisfied, was he? Well I was aching all over, with certain intrusive places stinging wretchedly. Somehow his goggles were still pushed back on his forehead and the idea that sprang forth into my mind was far too delicious to pass up. I reached over and grabbed the silver frames, lifting and snapping the lenses hard back over his eyes.

He jolted awake, jerking upward into a seated position. "Ow! Shit! What!" He slapped his hands over his eyes and winced. "Crap!" He rubbed his brow, looking over and seeing me. "Mello?"

"Get out," I commanded.

"Huh?" He blinked numerous times and yawned, still massaging his temples.

"I said, get out!" I pointed over to the door. "I'm sick of looking at you!"

"Nobody told you to look," he cracked, a sudden smile spreading on his lips, showing a hint of teeth. His drowsy eyes narrowed behind his lenses. "Where exactly were you looking?"

"NOW!" I thundered furiously, giving him a rough shove that knocked him halfway off the bed.

He caught himself barely on the headboard, his legs getting tangled in the sheet. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving. Damn." He yawned again, struggling his way off the bed and then stretching as he stood. He mumbled something and scratched his head as he searched for his clothes. He found his shirt and boots, but had problems finding the belt. "Where'd it go…? Didn't think I threw it that far…"

I spied it halfway under my side of the bed and snatched it up, tossing it in his face. "Hurry and get out!"

"…Time of the month or something, Mello?"

"Don't make me tell you again!"

"Okay, okay... Gone…" He shuffled lazily out of the room, still scratching himself and mumbling, and I heard him flop down on the couch out in the living room.

That son of a bitch…! For some reason beyond me I had allowed him to sleep soundly last night, but now that it was daylight, now that the memory of what I'd let him do was replaying loudly and vividly in my head, I was so furious I couldn't even see straight. I was biting my teeth together so hard it was hurting my face. I crushed my fists against my eyelids and let out my uneven breaths. I couldn't absorb what had happened. Where had he gotten the gall? I glared between my fingers and spied my gun dashed uncaringly at the end of the bed. I grabbed it—and my raging impulse was to march out in the living room and blow his fucking brains out. My finger tightened on the trigger as I seriously considered obeying my animalistic urge to kill him…!

But no. Unfortunately, I still needed him for the mission. I would still require his skills and his assistance. First things first. My top priority was taking down Kira and beating Near. After that, perhaps there would be time for other vengeance. I took a deep breath. Not to say I didn't plan on unleashing a measure of my wrath upon him just to placate myself.

I stifled my fury as much as possible, which wasn't very much, and threw the sheet off my legs. I set my gun down reluctantly on the nightstand and turned, putting my bare feet on the floor. The pain deep in me was a ruthlessly consistent sting, and with my already fatigued muscles I didn't much feel like moving at all. I was tempted to go right back to sleep, but the bedding was soiled and putrid, as was my skin. I couldn't stand the stench of it much longer, so I forced myself to stand. I wobbled with the shot of pain and growled out loud, my hand still urging towards my gun. That stupid bastard! He would pay for this soon enough…!

I took a couple steps towards my luggage, realizing stupidly that I still had to go see Halle in a few hours! Fucking hell! I tore open my suitcase and dug out fresh clothes, stalking out unsteadily into the living room. He was already passed out completely again, sprawled belly-down on that fucking couch. I snarled at him through my teeth but of course he didn't even twitch, so I went to the bathroom and slammed the door, listening to it quake on its rusty hinges, one of the screws flying out. I glanced briefly at the cracked mirror and the glass sprayed all over the sink. I stepped over the chips on the floor and turned on the shower water, making it painfully hot before I peeled off my pants and stepped in. I doused myself in the steamy water, washing my hair and then soaping myself down. I scrubbed hard to get all the dried blood and other unwelcome substances off my backside and thighs. It hurt with every motion, which helped keep my anger constantly potent.

As I washed, I felt layers of my dead skin from my burn scars come off in my hands. I scratched at it, tearing as much of it away as I could, watching it all run down the drain along with the blood I washed off. I stepped out and dried myself, seeing still more dead skin and strands of hair rub off on the towel. I sighed sharply and threw the towel on the floor before I stepped into my pants, tying them and buckling a belt over. I slid on my boots and zipped them, then stood back in front of what remained of the mirror. Most of the left side of the glass was still intact, so I gave myself a quick check. The scar tissue was still fresh and reddish, but it was definitely healed over completely. I wouldn't need bandages anymore, however much I still wished for the comfort they provided by covering me. They would be more conspicuous, however, and of course if I wanted bandages I would have to get Matt to do it—and I most certainly wouldn't be allowing him to touch me today.

I combed my hair, brushed my teeth twice, and finished dressing before I left the room. I grabbed a bar of chocolate from the kitchen and ripped the foil away from one end, snapping a huge piece off and chomping it angrily. I could still hear him breathing loudly from where he lay on the couch, nearly snoring. I chewed furiously as I went back to the bedroom and grabbed my hooded jacket, pulling it on. I double-checked my ammo and then stashed both my Berettas in the inner lining pockets. A switchblade went in the side pocket and my wallet went in my pants pocket attached to my chain. I put both the undetectable phones Matt had made me in the other side pocket, along with an extra bar of chocolate. It was already past 4:20, damn it…! I had slept too long…! The brainless jackass had exhausted me, and at the most inopportune time possible!

My fury reignited as fiercely as a wildfire just that quickly. I growled through my chocolate and stomped back out into the living room, standing over the sofa. I glared down at his unconscious form, sleeping as peacefully as if this were any other day. Damn him! He wouldn't get away scot-free, hell no! I was about to lift my leg and kick the sofa over, but I spotted his grotesque heaps of half-eaten junk food all over the coffee table and got another delicious idea.

I walked around and grabbed one of the beer cans, shaking it and hearing that a lot of it still remained. I turned and dumped the contents onto his head, watching him stir a little and moan, rolling over as if to escape it, but now he was belly-up, so I poured the rest right onto his face. It splashed off his goggles but gurgled into his open mouth, making him cough and sputter in alarm. He shook his head and pushed upwards, hands swiping at his face. "F-Fuck! What the…? Shit…!" He shook out his now soaked hair, ripping down his goggles, and glanced around, seeing me. "What the hell is it NOW, Mello?"

"Don't take that insolent fucking tone with me!" I roared, hearing my voice hiss viciously.

He leaned back on the couch and wiped his face, a yawn bursting forth from his mouth. "Sorry… What's up? What's going on?"

How dare he act so unaware—so nonchalant? "I'll tell you what the fuck is going on!" I thundered. "You're going to get the fuck up and clean this goddamn shit-hole! I'm sick as hell of looking at all your filthy fucking trash! I want all of it gone by the time I get back! And you better replace those fucking sheets too—and BURN the old ones!" I cracked off another bite of chocolate with a snarl and stormed off. I couldn't take two steps before he grabbed my arm. "Don't fucking touch me!" I fumed, feeling bits of chocolate and spit fly from my mouth.

He leaned back a little with a jump, but kept a hold of my arm. "Why're you so hardcore pissed off?" he asked, almost innocently.

I slapped his hand away from me, turning back. "I can't BELIEVE you have the balls to ask me that!" I screamed. "You knew I had things to do! You knew very well I had plans! I was already below my best thanks to the fucking Japanese taskforce busting in with Kira backing them up! I damn near already died to complete this mission, but you don't seem to give a damn about that! You don't seem to give a damn about ANY of this—not L, not Kira, not anything! I'm sick and tired of your thoughtlessness! You're an empty-headed bastard and I ought to shoot you right here and now! All you ever fucking care about are those fucking games!" I spotted his godforsaken little handheld system on the coffee table and grabbed it. "Like this! If this is so fucking important that you can't get any fucking work done…!" I threw it straight into the brick wall, relishing in the loudness as it struck and smashed practically in half, the screen shattering. Even the sound of it crashing to the wood floor couldn't persuade a smile from my lips and I turned back to him, teeth still clenched.

He was still leaning back on the couch, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. "Christ, Mello!" he exclaimed. "That's 200 fucking dollars down the drain!"

"Good! You have more than enough stolen fucking money to make up for it, you lazy son of a bitch! Now clean yourself up and get moving!"

"You've lost it for real!"

"You're going to lose SOMETHING if you don't get the fuck up and get to work on this goddamn apartment, you disgusting pig!"

"…What's your problem, seriously?" he asked, wiping a little more at his face. "Is this about last night—?" I threw the back of my hand abruptly across his cheek, knocking him against the sofa with a loud slap. His face jolted aside with the impact, instantly going red. My knuckles were tingling with the pain of it.

He was frozen in place for a moment or two, before he lifted his hand and rubbed his reddened cheek. We were both well aware that I had never honestly struck him before, which was a very rare feat for me. Of course, when we were kids I had pushed and shoved him, punched him lightly, even tripped him a couple times out of amusement, but I had never really HIT him with all my force, nor had I ever meant it before now.

"Shit…" he uttered. "Guess that answers that question."

"I fucking HATE you!" I yelled, clenching the hand I'd struck him with into a tight fist. "Just do what I say or I won't have any more use for you at all!" I stormed off again, tossing the tower of empty pizza boxes off the kitchen counter, scattering them across the floor. "And this kitchen better be fucking spotless too! If I can't see my disfigured fucking face in this floor, you're a goddamn dead man!" With that I yanked open the door and left, slamming it as loudly as possible behind me.

**November 18, 2009**

**5:06 p.m.**

I put my helmet on and started the motorcycle, the difficulty I encountered when straddling the seat just increasing my fury. It stung but I ignored it, driving off and speeding down the dirty backstreets of Chinatown aimlessly, just trying to kill time and hopefully calm myself down at least enough to take care of what lay ahead. I needed my mind to be steady and focused for tonight. I couldn't afford any distractions, even one as monumental as this. I was fuming, positively outraged, but it just wasn't important compared to my goals. I just had to forget it for the time being! I had more important things to think about!

I had to see Halle tonight and get the information I needed…and most likely I would take the steps to confront Near after four whole years. He wouldn't be surprised to see me, of course. He was never surprised. He was never shocked, angry, sad, or otherwise. He was always empty, filled up with mechanical sentiment that never breached the core. It only stayed on the surface, I knew it all too well. There were no real emotions behind the practiced words. I had left my photograph at the orphanage, knowing he would take it. It was my trump card-my key to making it inside his taskforce. I had known from the moment I left Wammy's House that he would build himself a professional team and go after Kira. I had known it the moment he called L a loser that he would do what he could to take L's place.

Now that photograph was just too risky to leave in anyone else's hands. Kira had the support of America and the SPK was done for, which meant that they would have to vanish under the radar and operate independently. I couldn't allow my photo to vanish with them. I couldn't allow for even the slim possibility that Kira would get his hands on it. If he had the world on his side, it was only a matter of time until he dragged all those working against him out in the open. He would kill me the very first chance he got, of that I had no doubt. I would get the information I wanted out of Halle, and then go to SPK headquarters myself to get that photo back. After that, I could execute the remainder of my plan to draw out Kira.

The foremost problem was whether or not Halle had betrayed me and told Near I had made contact, in which case he would have set up at least limited surveillance in her house. Of course, Near would deduce such a step on his own, most likely. If I could trust Halle, then my concern was when exactly Near would get wise to the possibility of me spying and put monitoring measures in place. Halle was a woman, so as I'd previously stated he would never put in infrared cameras… If there were regular cameras, I could just leave the light off and wait by the door. I could put the gun to her head right away as a warning, and if there were cameras she could indicate it to me. Hopefully, she was smart enough to get it, but I was certain she was.

I arrived at her condo after 6:00, punching in her security code at the gate and then sneaking around the back like before. I climbed up her stairs and picked the lock, slipping in quickly and silently and locking the door back behind me. I stood next to it, taking out my favorite Berretta and readying it at my side. I tried not to move too excessively, lest the cameras catch a glimpse of me. The doorknob rattled not too long after, and I had the gun to her temple the moment she stepped over the threshold in her heeled boots. She shut the door behind her without a word, then flicked on the light in spite of my presence. This had to mean there weren't any cameras, so I raised my chocolate to my mouth intending to bite off a piece. I almost did but just then she placed one of her elegantly manicured fingertips to her red lips, indicating I be quiet. I raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, with my lips still parted over the candy.

She took a step away from me and shuffled about the collar of her coat. "Near," she said calmly aloud, "I want to take a shower, so I'm taking the wire off for a while." Shit, her clothes had been bugged! That was closer than I had ever wanted to come! She left the small listening device on the table in the hall along with her cell phone and then took off her jacket, hanging it up in a closet. After that she slid off her boots and sighed, walking into her bedroom. I followed without a word, closing her bedroom door after I passed through it. She unbuttoned her blazer and then turned on the bathroom light. I went in the room after her and leaned against the wall, lowering my gun to my side and finally taking that bite from my chocolate. She waited until she cranked on the shower water and it was pelting loudly before she spoke in her regular voice to me. Smart woman. "Nice to see you, Mello," she told me, leaning against the vanity so she could glide off her stockings.

"So only your jacket was bugged?" I asked.

"Yes, and there's no way they can hear what we're saying from in here." I nodded. She tossed her stockings in a hamper and brushed back her hair from her shoulders, finally looking me over. Her eyes did that soft narrowing again, just like last time. "I see you're not wearing your bandages anymore," she observed. "Are you all healed?"

"More or less," I growled, not wanting to bring up the subject again.

She stepped up to me, making me tighten my fist around the gun on reflex, but she only lifted her delicate-looking hands and drew back my hood from my face. Her eyes opened a little more, and then creased. I didn't like the look. "They don't hurt, do they?" she asked gently.

"No," I barked, meeting her gaze coldly. "It's nothing to worry about." She let her palm drift closer to my injured cheek but I warded her away with the butt of the gun. "I don't have time for this, Halle," I reminded her. "You know why I'm here."

She stepped back and sighed, nodding once. "Yes, I know." She finished undressing and stepped into the shower, leaving the curtain half-drawn uncaringly. Was she still insisting on this game? I really wasn't in the mood for this at all, damn it. Did she really think me susceptible to her tactless seduction? And what's more, why did she decide to target me? I wasn't exactly warm or welcoming. She began to soak and wash her hair as steam filled up the room. I ate my melting chocolate and waited. "Near came to the conclusion that you would try to contact me, but I don't think he knew that we had already met."

"I told you, it's so like Near to think that way…" I growled with a piece of the candy in my teeth.

"I wasn't thinking about this before, but you no longer have the notebook, so all you can threaten me with is the gun, right? You can't control me, and if you use the gun to kill me, it's only going to make it easier to track you down." What were these, threats? I thought she was trying to stay on my good side-though I didn't have one. "I'm going to have to place cameras in all my rooms after this, excluding the bathroom just like you predicted…" She rinsed out her hair and then began to scrub her body with her sweet-smelling soap. "Everything you predicted has happened so far… I'm sure you watched the new President's press conferences."

"Yes… What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying it would be best if you kept laying low. After today my entire apartment will be under surveillance…so what are you going to do?" She rinsed off all the soap and glanced over at me from beneath the spray of water, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Live in the bathroom?" She giggled once, but I would say it was closer to a snicker. "It's okay with me. I don't mind having you around…" I finished off the piece in my mouth and stowed the rest of the foil-wrapped bar in my side pocket. She saw I wasn't amused and shrugged, then cranked off the water. "Near thinks that the new L is Kira," she told me.

"L…!" According to the information I coerced from Yagami, L is Touta Matsuda…but I thought he was completely useless, and the Japanese police were only using him as a mouthpiece. How had Near come to that conclusion? Had Yagami actually dared to lie to me? Damn it… What was going on? The new L is Kira… My previous deduction was incorrect then-the whole taskforce was not acting as L, it was a single individual, and it was not who Yagami said it was. So Kira was not just ON the taskforce-he was posing as L himself. I guess it was possible… If that was the case…I was in even bigger danger than I had originally thought. I frowned deeply. I would have to recalculate immediately.

Halle pushed open the shower curtain and stepped over the tub. "Mello, could you hand me a towel?" I glanced over, noticing the single small towel hanging on the rack across from me. Had she intentionally left it there? I grabbed it and threw it curtly to her. She caught it and held it to her chest. "So…what are you going to do, Mello?"

"Halle, whose side are you on really? Mine or Near's?" I asked as she walked past me, drying her hair.

"I already told you about a week ago, didn't I? I'm on nobody's side. You, Near, and I all want to capture Kira. We're all after the same goal. Don't you agree?" I kept my frown in place. My goals were not the same as Near's; they never had been. "So, I'm going to ask again… What are you going to do? Are you going to run away? That won't solve anything… If you do that, I'm going to tell Near that you were hiding in my bathroom and that I met you. I do think you should stay under the radar for a while though. Do you want to meet me later somewhere else? Maybe we could have dinner someplace quiet and figure this out?"

Enough of this bullshit. This new information had moved up my plans. Instead of waiting, I would have to act right now. "Halle, go back to headquarters," I ordered.

She turned back to look at me, still drying herself. "What? I've got no reason to go back there now."

I took a large step towards her and pointed my gun sideways at her forehead, tapping my index finger against the trigger. "Make one up," I ordered. "Go back."

She flinched a little and shied away from the weapon. "Okay, okay… Stop pointing that thing at me."

"Shut up and get dressed."

"Why are you doing this, Mello? What will it solve?" she asked, snatching up her clothes from the floor as she moved backwards into the bedroom. I kept the gun on her as she hastily finished drying and put on her panties and bra. She threw on her shirt and skirt quickly as I rushed her out of the room. She grabbed her jacket back from the closet and stepped into her boots, buttoning her buttons while I threw my hood back up to hide my face. She grabbed her cell phone but I herded her out the door and down the stairs before she could grab anything else.

**November 18, 2009**

**7:26 p.m.**

I kept her close to me as we made our way out into the parking lot. I wrapped my right arm tightly around her waist, so that I could press the gun low against her back discreetly with my left hand. In this position, the weapon wouldn't be seen by passersby. "Mello, you don't have to…" she began.

"Quiet," I barked in her ear, crushing my arm more firmly around her waist. "If you try to get away from me or call for help, I'll plant a bullet in your spine. And don't think I won't, even in the middle of this parking lot. You already know I'm good at escaping tight situations."

"I won't, Mello… I swear." She tentatively put her arm around me in return, clutching my shoulder snugly to make our walking through the parking lot together look as natural as possible.

"Hail a taxi for us," I told her. "If you act suspicious to the driver or so much as reach for your cell phone…"

"I get it," she said, and we went through the gate and out to the street corner where she hailed us a cab and we got in. We stayed pressed against each other as we sat, and I nudged the gun harder against her backbone. She winced and then told the driver where to go. I memorized the address.

"And make it quick," I added roughly. "No so-called 'scenic routes'." He started babbling in a foreign tongue that he assumed I couldn't understand, but I replied to him using his own language. "Don't pretend like you didn't understand me and step on it!" He blinked into the rear-view mirror and then nodded quickly and drove off. I kept the gun digging in her back and my eyes watching the road, making mental notes of all the streets and landmarks along the way. It wasn't a very long drive before we pulled up to the front of a towering skyscraper, detailed in steel and tinted glass. From the street, it looked to be posing as an office building. I threw the cabbie some bills and ushered Halle out the door without another word to him.

Halle and I walked up to the front of the building, which was left completely unguarded. Posting sentries would be far too suspicious, of course, and until recently the SPK had been a secret organization. She lifted her hand to punch in a code at the door, but I stopped her. "Near certainly has camera surveillance inside," I said.

"Yes," she affirmed.

"So he'll see us coming. Act as my hostage, do you understand? Keep your hands behind your back and keep calm, but don't be agreeable. I'm holding you against your will, so act like it."

"I understand." She punched in the code and we walked inside.

"Lead me to where Near is," I demanded, lifting my gun from her spine to the back of her head as the doors shut behind us. She nodded stiffly and walked, heading for the first elevator and pressing the button for up. We rode it silently up several floors until the doors slid open, revealing a long, empty hallway.

"It's the room at the end," she said.

"Walk," I told her, pressing my gun sideways to the back of her head again, just to emphasize the seriousness of my intentions. She walked, our boots clopping against the steel floor and echoing in the bare metal corridor. It was so like Near to build an empire of clean, cold artificiality. They had most certainly seen us by now as we approached the door leading to the chamber at the end of the hall. The metal entry slid open before us, and I grabbed Halle's arms and kept them behind her as we stepped into the spacious room to face the rest of the SPK.

I immediately spotted Near across the room, a wall of monitors flashing every angle of my image before him. He was sitting in his customary manner, one knee drawn up and the other stretched beneath him. He was planted right in the middle of a city made of various-sized wooden blocks, and was currently holding a plastic toy robot with a large gun. There were several more robots scattered around him. He was dressed the same as he always dressed, in plain white pajamas. He was only about two years my junior, but looked so much younger still, as if he hadn't aged a day. The boy was albino, and so his skin and hair were white and terribly sensitive to the light. He'd never gone outside to play when we were younger, not that he would've wanted to regardless. He didn't like to socialize and he didn't like to be in situations where people disagreed with him, so he just avoided the other children altogether. No matter what they tried, he would stay in his room by himself and play with his toys. Even now, even four years later, it was the same as it had been since the day we met.

He would never change.

The large blonde man on my left and the slender black-haired man on my right both pulled their guns and pointed them at me the moment I walked in. This was Anthony Rester, real name Anthony Carter, and Stephen Gevanni, real name Stephen Loud. I ignored them utterly as I focused on Near's hunched shape in the center of the room. He kept his back turned to me, not even glancing over his shoulder as he spoke.

"Welcome, Mello," he said, his voice as changeless as the rest of him.

I felt my teeth clench instantaneously, already threatening to lose the calm I'd gathered until now. I snatched Halle's hands tighter behind her back and shoved her further into the room, jamming my gun harder against the side of her head so they could see.

"Drop your gun!" Rester hollered.

"That goes for everybody. Put your guns down," Near said as effortlessly as breathing. "It's meaningless for us to shed any blood here."

Gevanni took a step towards me, still aiming for my head. "B-But, Mello killed the other SPK members…and he kidnapped and killed the Japanese police director…!" he insisted. Those things were mostly true, although I hadn't PERSONALLY killed the SPK, and had nothing to do with Takimura's death after I had him tortured.

Near twirled a lock of his white hair in his index finger, still making his robot attack the city made of blocks. "We have no proof of that," he continued, "and I think Kira is the one who killed the director… But that's not important now. Don't make me say it again. Our goal is to capture Kira." He held his robot's shoulders and made him swoop down and kick over a steeple of blocks. Rester and Gevanni weren't budging, and neither was I. "There is zero gain for us in killing Mello right now. He got the notebook once, and was able to get closer to Kira than any of us. That's something we should respect, and pointing a gun at him is just plain rude."

"…Very well…" Rester said, and he and Gevanni lowered their weapons.

I noticed Near hadn't been overly concerned with my holding a gun to his subordinate's head, so he was probably just attempting to stroke my ego, hoping to guide me where he wanted. Even if he truly did feel minimal respect for my accomplishments, I knew he would never truthfully acknowledge me until I beat him into the ground completely. I would go along with it for now.

"Well said, Near," I commented. I flicked my Beretta away from Halle's head, holding it out so they could see I brought it harmlessly to my side.

"So you survived that explosion, as I knew all along," he said, moving to play with a different robot. "We couldn't find you in any hospital in the country, not even the underground plastic surgeons or the black market hacks, but I hadn't expected to. You would never risk getting caught that way."

"You're right." I fought against every alarm resounding in every fiber of my body and forced myself to lift my unoccupied hand and throw back my hood, revealing my scarred face. "I've already paid a price for chasing Kira, so I don't plan on paying anything more."

I saw his hair rustle as he glanced up at the monitors, glimpsing my damaged face from every possible camera angle. Of course, he didn't bother to turn and actually observe me with his own two eyes. He went back to his toys immediately after. "You've changed a lot from when we grew up together," he mentioned, making his robot fly above the city. "You swore to live life your own way, and it looks like you have. There are no dress codes out here in the world, after all."

I scoffed a chuckle. "And you haven't changed at all," I answered back. "So everything's gone as you imagined?"

"Yes." Gevanni and Rester looked on in confused interest as we conversed. "Though I didn't expect you to come all the way here…" He would have more to say, so I waited. "…And thanks to you, Mello, I have been able to greatly narrow down my suspects for Kira." I knew it! An amiable confrontation could never exist between us, because he would always lord his superiority over my head! We could never co-exist and I lacked any reasonable sufficiency of calm today!

"Near," I hissed through my bared teeth. I shoved Halle away from me and darted my arm forward, aiming right for Near's bloated head! "I'm not a tool for you to use to solve the puzzle," I uttered gravely. Near didn't budge but Rester and Gevanni jerked their weapons in my direction again in alarm, and this time I heard them yank the hammers back.

Near only spoke as calmly as ever. "Commander Rester, don't make me repeat myself. Please lower your gun." He returned to play with his hair again. "Mello," he said to me, "if you want to shoot me, shoot."

I fully intended to do it. I stomped forward, placing the gun less than two feet from the back of his head. There would be no missing from this distance. Rester and Gevanni didn't lower their weapons and I tightened my index finger on the trigger. I was staring straight down the barrel to my target, my hand locked around my Beretta, perfectly ready. All I had to do was squeeze and the competition was over for good. I would never again struggle under the weight of this contest. I would be rid of Near's arrogant voice and false compassion forever. I wondered briefly, if he was even human enough to bleed. I ached to find out as my hand continued to tighten.

I barely hesitated before my finger strained further on the trigger-but just then Halle dove in my path, grabbing the barrel of my gun. I almost jumped from the shocked outrage of her interruption.

Her eyes were intense on mine as she stood between me and Near, my unstable fist still crushed around my loaded gun. If I shot she would take it square in the chest. "Mello," she said urgently, and then lowered her voice, "if you kill Near right now, then even if you succeed in capturing Kira, it will be meaningless. How can you beat Near if he's not alive to be beaten?" I stared right through her, still determined to unleash all my pent-up rage in a single swift murder. All my hatred would be poured into one tiny bullet. I was tempted to shove her out of my path but she kept talking. "And if you shoot Near, we'll be left with no choice but to shoot YOU. What good is there in BOTH of you dying? Only Kira wins then." She pleaded with me through her golden eyes, her blonde eyebrows creased with severity. I realized that she was honestly trying to save me, that she always had been. Why did she care for me?

I blinked and exhaled sharply, quelling my rage with great effort and letting it leak back to where I kept it. I chuckled once, forcing a smirk, and lowered my gun to my side. She watched me do so, smiling encouragingly, and I motioned her away. She nodded before she backed away to stand beside Gevanni.

"She's right, Near," I said to him. "I just came to get the photo you have of me."

"Yes," he replied, setting down his robot. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a worn, album-sized Polaroid, holding it out in his thumb and index finger. "This is the only remaining photograph, and there are no copies of it. Also, the surveillance cameras here only monitor, they do not record."

I walked over and took it from him, glancing briefly at my face of over four years ago. If memory served me, Roger wouldn't allow me to leave the room until I smiled for the photographer, because all my Wammy's House photos up until this point had been angry grimaces. So in this picture my face was scowling with an attempt at a smile. Of course my complexion was unscarred and severely pale from years of sheltering, but that strain in my eyes spoke volumes of how long I had endured in second place. I would never look like this again. I would never be this person again.

"I've contacted all the members of Wammy's House and anyone else from your past who would know your face. It's not 100% perfect, but I think it's safe to say that you won't be killed by the notebook."

"Thanks for your concern, Near," I remarked dryly. I flipped over the photo of me and saw in mild shock that he'd written "Dear Mello" in his neat little script. I could recognize his handwriting without effort. When had he done this? It didn't look recent… So Near knew that he would be handing me this photograph sooner or later… He must have written it not long after I left the House. We didn't get along, that was certain, but we had been together for most of our childhoods. As much as I despised him from the depth of my being, somewhere in me I had already admitted and accepted that he was the closest thing to a brother I had ever known. Perhaps he felt the same, or perhaps this was yet another attempt at guiding me where he wanted? Come to think of it, it must have also been Near's plan for Halle to give me the SPK's information on Kira…otherwise it wouldn't have been so simple for me to go about it. I should have figured it from the beginning.

"Near," I stated plainly, "I have no intention of joining forces with you." I wanted to make that perfectly clear, even though I already knew what his response would be.

"I know."

It was time to implement my premature strategy… I wasn't sure exactly how it would work out, but it was the only angle I could think of. Now that I was here, I would see where it took me. "But…it would upset me to receive this picture without giving anything in return… Quid pro quo, just like old times…" He lifted his head with alertness. "The murder notebook…" I didn't like letting anyone else know this, especially Near, but it was essential for my plan to move forward. "It's a Shinigami's notebook, and people who touch it are able to see the Shinigami."

Rester and Gevanni exchanged glances. "I-Impossible…" Rester said.

"Who's going to believe that? A Shinigami…?" Gevanni remarked.

"I believe him," Near said easily. Of course he did. Despite our differences, we knew we could trust each other when it was vital. There existed an unspoken connection between us, and we could always tell when the other was lying. I guess not much had really changed at all since we were kids, except of course for my resolve. It was stronger than ever, and so was I. His teammates weren't so easily convinced, however, and Near voiced his reasoning aloud for them as I knew he would. "What advantage is there for Mello in coming up with such a stupid story about a Shinigami really existing? If he were telling me a lie, he would tell me a normal, more meaningful-lie. Therefore, the Shinigami exists." A plausible enough explanation, but they wouldn't understand the silent measure of kinship between us. Not even I understood it, really.

"The notebook I had belonged to a Shinigami named Sidoh, who dropped it in the human world. He had come down to get it back, but another Shinigami had it before," I explained, realizing how silly this sounded out loud.

"…We know that because there were rules written in English inside the notebook for human use, right?" How typical of him to put it together in a matter of instants. "It would be odd for a Shinigami to write rules down for humans to use when he wants to get it back…"

I turned away, intending to be done with this. "…And one more thing… There is a fake rule hidden amongst the rules written in the notebook. That's all the information I can give you on that." I took a step towards the exit.

"Wait," Near said, and I heard him set down his toys. Everyone had fallen silent, watching us, motionless in expectancy of his next words. I kept walking, not wanting to hear anymore of what he would say to me. "You're going to die, Mello," he said finally.

I halted in my tracks at that, a growl rumbling through my teeth. "You think you can see the whole picture before it happens!" I spat. "Not even L could do that, Near! You'll never be L-neither of us will! It's futile to try!"

"I know this is a foolish request, but please don't be angry, Mello," he said, his voice still ceaselessly hollow. "I don't want you to die," he added.

"I could care less if you died, Near," I retorted.

"I know." He got quiet again and I took another step to leave, but what he said next snared my attention-halting me yet again. "I assume Matt is working with you?"

I turned back around, a frown constant on my face. "Don't patronize me, Near," I sneered. "You already know the answer to that."

"Of course. There would be no possible way for you to obtain all the information you have without Matt's aid." He began to stack his block towers over again. "In addition there was that missile you utilized to transport the notebook outside of our range of surveillance. No one but Matt could have pulled that off… Also, since you never went to a hospital, and all of your…'colleagues' died in that explosion, then it must have been Matt who helped you. I don't imagine even YOU would be capable of treating your own wounds in that condition…and judging by the severity of your scars…it definitely looks like an amateur job." He continued to stack the towers higher as I fumed silently at his dialogue. "So you forced him into our game as well?"

"I didn't force him to do anything," I snapped. I was less than pleased that Matt had been brought up in this conversation. I was certain it was virtually impossible for Near to be genuinely concerned about Matt, since they hadn't really interacted much outside of our sessions with L. Now and then I had convinced Matt to bully Near along with me, but anyone could see he wasn't much interested in the ventures. He didn't hold anything particularly personal against Near because he didn't care enough to do so. I'm sure Near had always known that.

"That's probably true," he continued. "I don't suppose he would require much coercion from you, but regardless…you're going to get him killed."

I scoffed loudly. "You presume too much, you always have."

"I'm already winning, Mello," he said, ignoring me. "I'm almost certain who Kira is and I'm rapidly closing in. With the information you provided me, I can close in all the more closely. You won't win, no matter what you try. If you keep on this way, acting so recklessly…you're going to get yourself killed, and Matt along with you." He picked up one of his robots and abruptly knocked over the tower he'd been building up, dashing blocks all across the steel floor as if to drive his point home.

I chuckled under my breath. "So what? I'm willing to risk my life to get to the top."

"And Matt too? You're willing to sacrifice him just to defeat me?"

"What makes you think I even give a damn?" I demanded furiously. "I'll do whatever it takes! You should know that!"

"I do know that… You've already injured yourself severely… Your greatest flaw is your rashness, it always has been."

"Why the lecture, Near? We've been over this a thousand times before, and I don't have time to hear it again."

He sighed and tipped over his robot. It hit the floor hard and its eyes flashed red on and off. "You're just like the criminal you're trying to capture," he said disdainfully. "I thought you wanted to bring Kira to justice, not copy his work."

I outright laughed this time, shaking my head with it. "You still don't fucking get it!" I announced. "I don't give a shit about Kira! I don't care about his ideals or beliefs, and I don't particularly have a problem with the way he operates! Why should I?"

"You can't possibly agree with him-"

"That's YOUR greatest flaw, Near-" I interjected, "you're arrogant. You think that L's justice is the only justice in the world, and no matter who you trample over to follow in L's footsteps means nothing to you. But L never wanted copies of himself-that was all Wammy. L wanted us to go our own way, and that's what I'm doing. There are much higher justices to follow than our dead mentor's."

He began to stack his blocks again, sturdier this time. "You mean God?"

I kept the cruel smirk on my face. "God…yes… And me." He paused in his stacking. "I follow my own sense of justice and no one else's. I'm going after Kira to satisfy only one person: ME. I want to get Kira back for what he did to me-for killing L and for being responsible for THIS!" I indicated my face with a harsh, hasty gesture. "So you see, my vendetta is deeply personal. My righteousness is narrow-minded and completely selfish. That's why I'll do whatever it takes to put Kira to death-WHATEVER the fuck it takes! And that's why I'M going to win this!"

"…Only your body has changed, Mello," he said in his low, empty tone. "You're still exactly the same." I thought I heard a ring of disappointment, but that wasn't possible.

"And you'll never change either, Near. You tell people that you're out for justice, that you want Kira to face the law, but you're really as selfish as me. I may be rash and conceited, but I admit that, and at least I don't delude myself into thinking I could ever become L. That's impossible, but in your shallow-minded arrogance you think that you can. Any one of us Wammy children would want to surpass L, as he encouraged us to do, but YOU want to replace his void entirely. I refuse to tarnish his legacy by trying to uproot it like you are. I'll step over it and carve out my OWN place in this world, ASIDE from L's, and stand on the summit of my OWN accomplishments-no one else's. I will catch L's killer and win our game to satisfy MYSELF only." I chuckled again. "You want to beat L as much as you want to beat me. Kira actually has little to do with it, you bastard, and you know it as well as I do."

He didn't say anything in response, but of course I wasn't expecting him to. He would never admit the truth I had exposed. I glanced to see his team members still looking on anxiously. These poor idiots didn't even realize they were being used like cheap toys. They were nothing more than Near's cannon fodder at this point. Halle's attention was solely on me, and it was plainly visible in her fretful expression. It was time to go. I had lingered here far too long, much longer than I had ever intended. I took a step backward.

"Won't you turn yourself in, Mello?" Near spoke up. "I'll give you this one last chance to do it."

I snickered. "I'd say you must be joking, but that's something you never do."

"As much as it disheartens me, the fact that you're a common criminal now doesn't surprise me in the least. If you turn yourself in now, Mello, we'll take you into custody. Kira will most likely gain control of the police soon, so we will handle the responsibility of confining you so you cannot be killed by him. You'll still be able to serve the time you deserve for your actions. Just being connected to the Mafia is enough, but we have concrete evidence of much more. There's no reason not to trust us to ensure your safety while in confinement."

"Stop talking like you're my superior, damn you! If you want to lock me up you're going to have to do it by force!" I heard the men move behind me. My left hand flew to my belt to snatch my first Beretta and my right hand flew into my inner jacket and extracted my second-and then I whirled on my heel and had both my guns pointed at Gevanni's and Rester's heads before they could even lift their weapons fully. I hadn't lost my edge in the slightest. "Just try and make a move," I warned grimly. "I've already got bullets in the chambers."

"Didn't I say to put your guns away?" Near asked, still calmly but almost impatiently now. "Commander, Gevanni." They glanced at each other and then back at me, hands locked around their pistols, faces sweating, not wanting to lower their aims as if it would make a difference. All I had to do was barely squeeze. "I DON'T like repeating myself," Near said more firmly. Hesitantly, the two men holstered their pistols altogether, but I didn't move either of mine an inch. "Mello, I wanted to give you an opportunity to turn yourself in peacefully, but as I expected, it's clear you don't intend to ever do that. If that's the case, I can't stop you from playing this game until the end."

"That's right, you can't." I flicked the safety back on each Beretta and then shoved the left one down the front of my pants and the other back in my inner jacket. I took a few large steps away and paused. "Near," I said.

"Mello," he said simultaneously.

I took the bar of chocolate back out of my pocket and raised it to my lips. "Which of us is going to get to Kira first…?"

"The race is on…" he said, a smile in his voice.

"Our destination is the same, regardless of the path. I'll be waiting for you at the finish when you get there…" I cracked off a large piece and munched on it as I headed for the exit.

"We're really just going to let him walk out?" Gevanni asked in disbelief. I kept going on down the cavernous hallway, knowing Near would never force me to do anything against my will. It wasn't in his nature to force things, or get his own hands dirty. It was his way to lie in wait and manipulate people into acting the way he wanted. Locking me up of entirely his own accord would put unwanted weight on his deluded conscience. It would have to be by my choice, which would never happen. Besides, I knew he was counting on me to continue to stir things up and draw out Kira for his benefit.

He wanted to finish the game as much as I did, and that's exactly what I intended to do.


	10. Chapter 9

**+Part 9+**

**November 19, 2009**

**8:04 p.m.**

I stalked down the hall, heading for the elevator and not looking back. After a moment or two I heard heeled footsteps hurry after me but I didn't slow down. "Mello, wait!" It was Halle. Stupid woman, why would she follow me? I kept walking and she kept pursuing me, her steps hastening as I pressed the elevator button. Once it opened I stepped in and pressed the button for the ground floor. She broke into a run as the doors began to close, reaching out her hand but I didn't hold the elevator for her. I watched the steel doors shut her away from me and rode it calmly to the first floor. Once there I stalked through the silent lobby and towards the door. I heard her leap to the floor from across the room, and figured she must have rushed down the stairs in her heels to catch up with me. What the hell was she doing this for?

I continued towards the door and departed the building without acknowledging her, but she followed me still, grabbing hold of my shoulder once we were both outside. I sighed irritably and turned back to face her, ready in case she was attempting to try something sneaky.

"What do you want, Halle?" I demanded coolly.

"What if Near is right, Mello?" she asked, unease filling her gasping voice. "What if you get yourself killed going after Kira? You've already almost died… I think you should give up this vendetta you have."

"L put his life on the line for this case, and so are the rest of you. Do you actually think I'm not willing to do the same?"

"I know you're more than willing, and I know you would never back down. I'm not questioning your drive or your courage… I'm questioning if this is really all worth it in the end."

"Having second thoughts?" I remarked. "Then maybe you're the one who should give up."

"We both should, Mello! We should just let it go! I wanted to find Kira because an old academy friend of mine was killed by him. Your reasons are similar, so I know you understand…!" I didn't respond. "But it isn't worth it in the end! Your contest, my grudge, any of it! None of it matters if we end up dead! We should just leave it all behind!"

"I thought you didn't want to run away," I sneered, not liking her hand where it was. She lifted her other hand and clutched both my shoulders tightly.

"I didn't-I wouldn't have even considered it…but then I heard you and Near talking… Kira isn't even your real concern, or Near's! I realized that our motivation is all about selfish goals and always has been! Everybody's after Kira for their own personal reasons-not for the common good! I wanted revenge and prestige, that's all! I have no innate sense of justice to guide me down the righteous path! I'm as shallow as everyone else! The world is all bowing to Kira now… It's only a matter of time before he really is a god…and there's no longer anywhere for us to hide! We'll never be safe if we don't run away!"

"What exactly are you suggesting, Halle?"

She came closer to me, brushing my hood back from my face. Her palm came to rest upon my disfigured cheek, and I flinched at the contact there. I wanted to pull away, but she stroked her thumb across my marred cheekbone and I found myself unable to depart that touch. "We could leave together…live alone somewhere peacefully…away from all this…"

Her abrupt proposal caught me entirely off-guard. I stared up at her, noticing she was a fair deal taller than me, especially with her heels on. I knew we were out of view of the street, still hidden beneath the shaded overpass that led to the lobby. "You're dreaming, Halle," I said unkindly. "There is no place I could ever go to escape this. I've wagered my life in this game and I can't just throw away everything I've worked so hard for. I still have a plan, and this isn't over."

"Is it really so damn important? Think about it! No matter what you accomplish-if you die then Near wins!"

"Don't pretend like you know anything about me or my life," I spat, shrugging her off me. "It's none of your concern."

"But it is…"

"Leave it alone, Halle. I'm not going to die." For some odd reason, I was able to keep relatively calm for this argument. With Near I had been positively livid, but alone with her now it was as if I had run out of rage. Perhaps I'd had too much of it in the past couple hours and I was simply exhausted. That seemed entirely plausible... Then again, I had been ready to shoot Near in the back of the head out of pure fury, but her urgent plea had stopped me. What was this power of persuasion she seemed to have over me? It couldn't simply be that she was a woman. That was absurd.

"Mello…" she pleaded quietly, her eyes locking to mine, not ready to walk away yet. Suddenly she slung both her arms around my neck and bent down, pressing her lips to mine. I stiffened in her embrace, honestly shocked senseless. She flushed her shapely body against mine, tightening her arms about my neck and deepening her kiss when I didn't push her immediately away. What the hell had I done to warrant this affection from her? I certainly hadn't been treating her nicely, had I? Why was I so appealing in her eyes? We had barely even interacted with each other at all, so where did this come from? This was my second intimate advancement in less than 24 hours! I didn't understand this sudden attraction I was exuding!

Still, I'd not yet kissed a woman…and it lent me a distinct comfort to feel it. Her face was soft and her body was warm and fragrant against me. Her hair was damp and still potently sweet smelling. There had been no shortage of loose, ready women in the Mafia, and Ross and the other guys messed around with them frequently. Several of their whores had attempted passes at me but I had roughly brushed them off, not appreciating the distractions. Women were useless to me-weak, frail, and often foolish. Halle was one of the most tolerable women I'd ever met, certainly. She was strong, skilled, and sharply intelligent, as well as ambitious, crafty, and of course beautiful. So why did her obvious fondness of me not touch any deeper than fascination?

This was brutally different than it had been with Matt, as well. His clumsy, anxious, halfway taunting touches had enflamed me down to the bones, but Halle's succulent kisses just served to calm me. Strange, that the effect of their lips was different. I reached up and took hold of her arms, shoving her back by them and withdrawing my mouth from hers.

"Mello?" she whispered.

"You've blown your cover," I told her. "Now there's no doubt Near will figure out you've been helping me." My mouth was still moist from her.

"There aren't any surveillance cameras out here…"

"You blew your cover just by chasing after your kidnapper. Not a wise move on your part. You've just succeeded in placing yourself in a difficult situation-stuck between Near and me from this point on." I stepped away from her, but she insisted on keeping her arms around my shoulders. "Forget me, Halle. This would never work."

"…It could," she disagreed sadly, "but you don't want it to."

"…You're right. I don't have room in my life to accommodate you, and I lack the basic humanity to give you what you want. Aside from that, after I catch Kira I'll have to disappear. You'll never see me again."

"I'm trying to say we could disappear right now…the two of us. If this is something you don't understand, then I could teach you… We could learn from each other, we could find a way. We just have to get away from here, away from Near and Kira and everything else that holds us back!"

"…And what, Halle? We could buy a house in a sunny suburb? With a yard and a white picket fence? Maybe get married and have kids?" I snorted a dry chuckle and shook my head, nudging her arms away and turning my back on her. "Not my style." I began to walk away. She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me from behind. Her fingers gripped at my jacket. "I'm losing patience with you, Halle," I warned, her persistence serving to frustrate me finally.

She nuzzled her face in my hair, not heeding me in the least. "Don't go, Mello," she said in a low, enticing tone, yet I could hear the urgency in it. "I have this horrible feeling…that Near is right…and you're going to die if you go through with this. You're going to die soon… I can't stand the thought of that. I know it doesn't make much sense, but I've never met a man like you…and I don't want to lose the way you make me feel. I thought I was stronger than this…" She chuckled briefly, feebly.

I sighed, letting myself feel the gentle pressure of her body against mine, the hot breeze of her breath sifting through my hair and down my neck. I had never before in my life bothered with women, and it was stupid of me to be even momentarily taken with her affection of me. She was smitten for whatever reason, but it wasn't a true feeling. Women were far too fickle, and became enamored far too quickly. This would pass with time. She was probably desperate for a companion of her own caliber, especially now as she faced down death in this case. Most likely, I just wasn't accustomed to anyone feeling for me this way, and my curiosity got the better of me. Was that why I had let Matt do what he did? Morbid curiosity? Had I really been that susceptible then, to let him get so close-the closest any human being had ever gotten?

I shook my head. "Find yourself a better man, Halle, a good man who'll take care of you," I told her, grasping hold of her wrist. "I'm not worth this, and I've never taken care of a single human being in my life. I take care of Number One, me, and that's all." I pulled free of her embrace and spun, facing her.

"You ARE a good man, Mello," she insisted. "I can tell, I can see it-even if you can't, even if no one else can. You're probably the only truly GOOD man I've ever met. All the others…they seem good on the surface, but they can never back it up. They're all so petty or superficial, but you're not. You see more to everything, and you act on it to ensure that you're proven. You never stand idly by. That's what I've needed…"

I shook my head again and reached up, unlatching the gold-plated rosary bracelet from my left wrist. "The only woman I remember taking care of me gave me this," I said blankly, not sure what I was doing or why. "She wasn't my mother, she was a nun in the Convent where I stayed, but I can't remember her name. She gave it to me to wear on my First Communion." I held it out and clipped it around Halle's wrist. She looked at it and then back up at me. Her eyes narrowed, shining with moisture, but I knew she would never cry in front of me or any man. She was too strong, too proud. And that was fine.

"Mello, I-!" Her words stopped in her throat when she felt me shove the muzzle of my gun into her belly.

"Go back to Near, Halle," I told her gravely, any miniscule shred of compassion I might have felt bleeding out of me as quickly as it had appeared. Her tenderness towards me was useless and undesired. Not only was it futile in every way, but it was just plain foolish. What was in me that was worth falling for?

"But, Mello…"

"I won't tell you again," I snapped, gaining back my biting tone. "Go back to headquarters and get back to work. If I can't quit, then neither can you. I need you on the inside, between me and Near. I need you to keep fighting, if not for the greater good, if not for Near, then for yourself." She stared at me intently, but I could see her earlier resolve slipping in the wake of my coldness. "If you're as smart as I've given you credit for, then you'll forget about me, Halle. Focus on what's attainable-catching Kira. Nothing else matters now." She stepped back from me and I moved away down the sidewalk. She nodded to me, her face creasing with determination, and I turned, slipping my gun into my inner coat pocket and flipping my hood back over my head. I walked swiftly away without looking back or longing to do so.

With the only existing photograph of me safely stowed in my pocket, it was time to launch my plan. I crossed the street hurriedly and inspected the buildings on this side. There was a townhouse apartment complex a little ways down the block. I walked inside and asked if there were any available rooms on the street side. The landlord said there were plenty of rooms available and that I could take my pick. The place was very old, with all the walls stripped to the bare bricks to save money on water damage. The floors were cheap hardwood and different rooms had various furniture left over from the previous tenants. I looked at a couple, mostly just observing how well I could see the front of the SPK headquarters from the den windows. They were all virtually the same, so I picked the one with the best furnishings. I paid a month's rent up front so there'd be no questions asked and then decided to wait a couple days to let the information I'd given Near settle.

**November 23, 2009**

**7:00 p.m.**

This was the time for the next step in my plan, and after what I'd found out from the SPK, I could elaborate on it substantially. I would need to contact one of the Japanese taskforce members and get them to come here. I had found out Matsuda's and Mogi's phone numbers from Yagami, so I would have to call one of them. I doubted that Matsuda was in fact L as Yagami had said, but there was no way for me to be certain, so I would have to be cautious and call the other man. I could acquire the confirmation I needed through him, but first I would need to convince him to come to New York without asking questions. My first priority now was to confirm what Near suspected: that the new L was Kira. It was Near's turn to be the tool.

I dialed Mogi's number and peeled the foil back from my chocolate, listening to it ring twice before someone picked up. "Are you Mogi?" I asked in Japanese, not allowing him to say anything. I intentionally made no effort to disguise my voice. I wanted them to know it was me. There was no answer for a couple seconds and I figured he was waiting for his fellow taskforce members to tell him what to do. "Are you alone?" I continued in his native language.

"No…" His voice was extremely deep and plain.

Of course he wasn't. He must be at their headquarters. "Then there's somebody right near you?"

"No…" So he had stepped out of the room? No matter. It would actually be beneficial if the rest of them were listening in.

Then this conversation is not being overheard? In that case, I want you to just keep answering so that the others around you will not realize who you're talking to." Of course, I was well aware they probably already knew. In fact, I was counting on it.

"Okay," he replied.

"Mogi, why don't you come to New York to see me?" I bit off a piece of chocolate and chewed. The line went quiet for a good few seconds. They were obviously shocked by such a request. "I won't tell you anything else, not unless you come to a place I specify. No cameras or wires. And make sure you bring extra cell phone batteries. I want you to tell me right now if you're coming or not. I can't let you hang up to think about it since you could come up with a plan with the people around you. Stay on the line with me at all times. The only time you can turn your cell phone off is when you get on the airplane. I'll call you again once you land." I checked the time. "I'll give you exactly 18 hours from now until I call to check in. If you arrive here sooner than that, wait at the airport for my call."

It was silent for a couple seconds. "Okay, where do I need to go?"

"Good." I stood and looked out the window, double-checking the streets as I spoke. "I want you to come to the exit of the Nick St. Station in New York as fast as you can."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." I listened to the various background noises as he made his way out of whatever building his taskforce headquarters was and headed outside. I heard the din of a car rumble for a good while and then the noise of crowds. "I'm at the airport now," he said. "I'm purchasing my ticket…and leaving on the next flight."

"Good. Tell me when you're getting on the plane."

"Okay." It was about an hour or so of utter silence aside from his quiet breathing and my noisy eating. "I'm boarding the airplane now…" he told me at last.

"Good. You know where to meet me, right?"

"The exit of the Nick St. Station."

"Right. Remember, I'm giving you 18 hours starting now." I hung up and crumpled the foil of my finished chocolate bar. Now I just had to wait again. Things were running smoothly, and I had a solid plan that had been set in motion.

I opened my extra bar and bit off a chunk, but instead of chomping I let the piece of candy melt on my tongue. As much as it curdled my blood to realize it, Near's words had gotten to me, at least partially. Halle hadn't particularly helped either. I swallowed the sweet melted confection and stowed the rest, throwing my hood back up. I locked the apartment behind me and stalked back down the stairs. I hailed a taxi and returned to Halle's condo, retrieving my motorcycle. I had made up my mind before I even started to drive.

**November 23, 2009**

**9:29 p.m.**

I could hear the tapping of his thumbs on the game controller as I unlocked the door to our Chinatown apartment and went inside. I could also hear explosions and gunshots and screams erupting from the television, and it was the only light source in the whole place as usual. I walked past the kitchen and into the living room, expecting to encounter piles of trash strewn in my path, but I found nothing of the kind. I glanced around briefly, noticing that he'd picked up the floor entirely, and that not a speck of visible garbage remained anywhere. He'd actually cleaned the apartment like I'd ordered earlier. It wasn't too surprising, considering I'd threatened him so viciously. Still, I'd expected him to maybe shove the trash all into one corner and say he'd cleaned, but he'd actually scrubbed and tidied the whole damn place. It even smelled clean.

I left my jacket on and walked right up behind the ridiculous couch where he was lounging and playing his game, knowing he wouldn't even look over at me. I said nothing as I pulled my favorite Beretta from my pocket and pressed it to the back of his head. His hands halted on the controller and I heard his character fall and die. GAME OVER flashed on the screen afterward as his back straightened a little. I could see the smoke drifting towards the ceiling, the scent seeming especially strong.

"So I guess you're still mad at me," he said through his pursed lips.

"No," I said, my voice distant, iced.

"Really? Then what did I do wrong this time?" He started to play his game again and I shoved my gun harder into the back of his skull. He grunted a little in pain and paused the game this time. "Seriously, what?"

"Get out, Matt," I ordered, voice unwavering.

"Say what?" He put the controller down and plucked the cigarette from his mouth, blowing a cloud of smoke. He flicked the ash away and moved to look back at me, but I jammed the muzzle of the weapon still harder into his scalp. "Ow!"

"Don't talk, don't turn around, don't even fucking look at me. Just stand up and get the fuck out."

He was quiet for a few moments. "So…do I finally get to go on a fun assignment or something?"

"No," I hissed, keeping my voice low and menacing. "We're not going to meet up later or plan long-distance. You're not working for me anymore. We're never going to lay eyes on each other again."

He stood up, slowly, and turned fast despite my previous warning. The couch was between us so I kept my aim steady right between his goggled eyes. "What the hell are you talking about, Mello?" he asked, his dull voice coming to life finally.

"You heard what I said!" I barked fiercely, still under my breath. I clicked the hammer back on the Beretta and turned it sideways, a sure sign of impending death for anyone on the opposing end of it. "Leave, Matt. Walk out of this apartment and hop the first plane out of the country. I don't care where you go, just go. Disappear-I know you're good at that."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because of the gun in your face, for one thing!" I bellowed, losing my resolve to be emotionless. "Do what I say and go!" I stretched my arm forward, pressing the gun right to his skin.

He didn't even flinch. "I don't get it, Mello," he said, not affected by my threats at all. "You tracked me down and asked for my help after four years of not seeing each other, and now you want me to disappear again? Just like that? What did I do to piss you off this bad?"

Why wasn't he heeding my orders like any other day? Was he so desensitized to having a gun in his face? "Just get out of here!"

"No," he replied firmly, calmly. He tossed his cigarette onto the hardwood floor.

"Damn you! I swear I'll shoot! You know I won't hesitate to blow your fucking brains all over the wall!"

"Then do it," he retorted, "because that's the only way you're getting me to leave. I'm not going anywhere unless you drag my dead body away."

"Fuck you!" I shouted, my finger tightening on the trigger, my teeth grinding so hard against each other it started to hurt my face. My hand struggled against an unknown restraint and my eyes widened with my frustration-my angry confusion. What held me back?

Finally, I scoffed loudly through my clenched teeth and snatched the gun back, turning away and sighing madly. "You stupid son of a bitch," I exhaled. "You just don't get it! Whether I put a bullet through your skull or not you're still going to end up dead! Leave while you can, you bastard!" I set the hammer back in place and threw my guns onto my chair. My jacket followed once I stripped it off. I hated him for being so oblivious and so stubborn, and I hated myself for being so goddamn soft. Me, soft?

"…What happened, Mello?" he asked in the mostly dark. The light from the television shone off his goggle lenses, rendering his eyes invisible. "You were gone a long time without checking in for a report…" I said nothing, and the quiet was deafening. "…You went to see Near, didn't you?"

I didn't answer, surprised at his intuitiveness. "It doesn't matter," I snapped.

"What did the little prick say to you? He could always get under your skin like no one else could."

"He didn't say anything to me, damn it! Just obey me and get lost!"

"Not happening," he stated. "You can't get rid of me that easy. Don't you think I'm used to you waving a gun in my face by now? It's old news."

I hissed through my teeth again. "You'll only get in my way from now on. My plan is going off without a hitch, and I know in what direction to move. Soon I'll have Kira's head on a pike. I don't need you anymore."

They aren't lies, they aren't. I convinced myself of that fact. He's lazy and worthless and dragging him along will only slow me down. No matter how helpful he's been up until now, no matter how loyal and supportive, it doesn't matter anymore. This is my fight, not his. He has no stake in it, no reason to risk his life. I'll finish the race just as I started it-alone.

He walked around the sofa and stood next to me, his eyes still invisible, his breath now battering me with the sultry-sick aroma of nicotine. "You always listened to me before," I hissed, not faltering even inches from his face. "So what's changed in the last 24 hours?"

"Not much," he answered, taking a step and closing the gap between our bodies, "but enough."

I gave him a perplexed glare and he answered it by clapping his arm low around my waist and jerking it forward, throwing us against each other. "What the hell are you-" His mouth was crushing against mine, cutting off the breath of my words and multiplying my confusion. I shoved him away by his chest but he kept me that close. I intended to scream horrid obscenities at him while punching his face bloody, but what he said stopped me.

"You're the stupidest genius ever," he declared.

"What?"

"Look, you need to get it through that thick, angry skull of yours once and for all. Log it away in that steel trap you call a brain: you asked me before if I was willing to die for this, and I said before that I don't mind. Okay?"

I kept my hand pressing against his chest, forcefully keeping him as much at bay as I could manage. "Are you serious, Matt?" I demanded.

"Yeah, I am. I wasn't lying or messing around. I've never lied to you about anything."

"…You really don't mind dying for this mission?"

"As long as I die following your orders, I'm fine with it. I would be happy staying inside in front of a screen for the rest of my life, but you hate standing still. You were always the motivated one. I just don't have the same initiative, so I've always liked seeing what I can become when following your orders. You're the only drive I have. Your cause is my cause. I'm fine this way, get it?"

Of course I was skeptical. It wasn't in my nature to trust people or take them at their word. I was suspicious, and so I was disbelieving. How could anyone be so selfless? How could anyone be so simple, so straightforward? Still, I had no reason to doubt him. He was right; he'd never once lied to me that I knew of, and dishonesty was too much trouble for him. He said what he thought, when he said anything at all. It wasn't often that he was creative or forthcoming, but when he was, everything he gave was genuine. So why was I finding it so dreadfully difficult to take him at his word?

"But how could this be fine with you…?" I questioned. "No one dies peacefully-no one! Everyone struggles against it! Everyone fights! Why would you be willing to throw your life away for something you don't even believe in?"

He sighed and shook me a little. "Damn it, Mello… Would you relax?" His voice was so quiet, so distant, so carefree. I could never sound like that. "Look, you want to catch Kira, right?"

"…Yes, of course."

"Then so do I. Even if you can't see it, I'm actually being selfish. What you want is what I want-your fight is my fight-and if you need me to do something, I'll do it. If you need me to give my life in the process, then I'll give it. The only time I've ever been remotely satisfied was when you are, which isn't often, y'know."

"…But I would never do that for you," I began, still anxious to distrust him and dismiss the whole thing. "I would never risk my life for yours."

"I know you wouldn't, Mello," he said, shrugging, "and that's fine. I would never expect you to, that's just not how you are. I know your style and your methods and I have no objections about any of it. You're exactly the way you need to be to get things done, and so whatever you tell me to do, I'll do. I'm being selfish, okay?"

"…I don't get it," I said, still staring at the way the light from the television blared off his goggles. "How can you be this way?"

He shook me again. "Fuck, Mello… Just take my word for it! I'm not putting on an act to tide you over or lying to get my way! Those are things that YOU do, Mello, not me! We're not alike at all and that's the only reason we can work so closely together. Haven't you ever figured that out?"

"Where the hell is this coming from…?"

"You can't stand to be around other people, Mello, not even your lackeys. They're all a waste of breath to you, all worthless unless they can be successfully manipulated. They're nothing but a means to an end, and can be done away with as easily as taking out the trash. But not me. YOU came to ME, asked me for MY help. Is there anyone else you would willfully turn to? No, there isn't, and that's good enough for me. So quit being such a bastard and just get used to it. I'm not getting lost, no matter how many times you try to kick me out. In the end, I know you need me, no matter what you say. This is the only order of yours I'll ever refuse."

"That's-!" He jerked forward and kissed me again, shutting me up.

"I can fucking tell when you lie, Mello. Don't you think I'd be able to by now? Just relax and accept it. You don't need to brood over it or try to complicate it. There's nothing to deduce or contemplate or figure out. I'm fine with whatever you need out of me. That's how simple it is. Enough said."

"…You're not lying to me," I said, forcefully unclenching my reflex to banish this entire conversation from my thoughts.

"Now you get it," he said. "So chill out."

"Damn you…" I shook my head.

"Just say you believe me, Mello. That's all you have to do."

I shook my head again. "Fine," I answered. "I believe you."

"Good."

After a few moments of awkward silence, I pushed him away and walked around the sofa, digging in my jacket pocket. "You said you'll whatever I need you to, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then give me your lighter."

He raised an eyebrow and walked over to me, shuffling around in his jeans pocket. He pulled out his Zippo lighter and flipped it open, bringing the flame to life with a flick of his wrist. I lifted the photograph of me that I'd gotten from Near, looking one last time at it, at the child I used to be, at the person who no longer existed.

"So that's why you went to see Near," he mentioned.

"Yeah."

He took it from me without asking, but I restrained myself from lashing out. He looked it over, smirking briefly, and then flipped it, noticing the writing on the back. His eyebrows knotted slightly, and then he handed it back to me. I held it above the tiny flame, letting the corner catch fire and then taking it away. It blackened quickly, shriveling inward, and I dropped it into his ashtray, watching it smolder into nothing but a twisted pile of cinders.

"Now that that's done…"

"What's your plan?" he asked.

"…I called one of the Japanese taskforce members and got him to come here… I'm going to use him and Near to get some information, and hopefully the other taskforce members will tail him. We can keep track of their movements and get closer to Kira."

"Sounds good," he commented, "and it also sounds like you got plenty of time before they get here. Japan is pretty far away."

"So?"

"So…I can think of a way to pass the time." He moved against me, his arm slinking around my back. "How about it?" He plucked up my rosary to hold it in his teeth and then hooked a finger through the loop of my zipper and pulled it down. He unfastened it all the way and then dropped my rosary back to my bared chest, the cold silver of the crucifix sending a small jolt through me.

I balled my fist in his shirt, raising my other hand to push against him. "Cut it out, Matt," I barked. "Do you really think I'm going to let you get away with this again?"

"I dunno, are you?" he asked, slipping his gloved hand inside my open vest and brushing it over the scarred half of my chest. I flinched at the cold of the leather and my muscles flexed defensively in a rush. "You're the boss, Boss…so what's the word?" He traced over my marred patterns of burned flesh, making small circles upwards towards my neck.

"Are you really that desperate?" I demanded. "Has it been that goddamn long since you've chased after a girl?"

"Are you shitting me, dude? You told me not to show my face too much or spend too much time around strangers if I could help it…remember?"

I did, but that was no excuse for his behavior. "So you're substituting, is that it?" I continued. "I don't like the fact that you're putting me in a girl's place-I don't fucking like it at all!"

"Oh, c'mon… That's not what I'm doing, Mello. Do you really think it's possible to substitute with you? There's PLENTY of much easier tail I could chase after." He gripped the ends of my hair and jerked my head closer to him. "Quit acting like you don't want me to," he said slyly. "You're trying to make extra excuses to be mad at me, but behind it I can hear what you're really saying…and what you're really saying is that you want to and won't admit it."

"You don't fucking know what you're talking about!" I yelled, shoving my hand against his face.

"Yeah, I do."

He lunged against me, kissing me again, more invasively this time. He ventured forth with his tongue, licking the inside of my mouth. I recoiled, trying to pull away, but he kept hold of my hair and waist, pinning us together. I kept denying that it felt good, that it ignited my skin, that it made places low in me feel tighter and hotter. It angered me that I could possibly confuse myself. It hadn't been this way with Halle and her soft, full lips. It hadn't been this way at all, even with how sweet she smelled and tasted. Matt's lips were dry and thin, masculine lips with no elegance, and he smelled and tasted purely of cigarettes. His touches were rough and unrefined. So why was it different? Why was Halle so easy to brush away, while in contrast he nullified my reflexes?

Before I had thought to move, my arms were snaking around him, clutching his striped shirt brutally tight in my gloved fists. He slid his knee between my legs, pressing me there, making me jump.

"Told you," he said, pulling away and licking his lips.

"Shut up," I snapped, breathing harder. "Just shut up!"

He grinned and leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. "I knew you'd taste like chocolate, man," he said. I growled and he just chuckled briefly, moving to bury his face in my neck. The frames of his goggles were cold and forced a hiss from my mouth once they skimmed against my bare throat.

"Would you take those off for once!" I shoved him back and tore the eye-gear from his face, tossing them somewhere hard without looking. I heard them hit the floor with a loud smack, seeing I'd mussed his shaggy hair with the action.

"Is that all I should take off?" he asked, grinning right in my face and starting to rub his knee against my crotch. I could feel myself swelling with heat below, his motions hardening me within my leather.

"Goddamn you…don't push your luck!"

"Got it, Boss." He clipped open my belt buckle and ripped the white leather strap through the loops, tossing it. His fingers untied the drawstrings of my fly and then he bit the middle fingertip of his glove, yanking it off. After that he promptly jammed that hand down my pants.

"Fuck…!" I gasped. He moved so damn fast! He stroked me steadily at first, and then his pace increased more and more. I darted a hand back and grasped the edge of the couch to brace myself as my knees weakened. "Why do you keep…doing this? You horny bastard!"

"Give me a break, Mello," he said into my neck. "I'm 19 and full of hormones. Not all of us can be asexual brainiacs."

"Maybe…if you actually used your brain once in a while…your dick wouldn't do all the talking!"

"…And maybe if you actually chilled out for once, your angry brain would realize you have a dick."

"Go to hell…!"

"Besides, in case you forgot how to count, this is only the second time…" He removed his hand from my pants and pulled my vest off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor at my feet. I cringed when he looked at me, not wanting his eyes to linger on the horrid blemishes that stained my image. He seemed to like doing so. I turned my face away, refusing to see him look at me. I didn't understand how I could be so pathetic, especially in his presence! Was it only in his presence that I allowed myself to show even the slightest weakness?

He wasn't deterred by my self-repugnance, not in the least, as he started to knead his lips and teeth across the scars on my face and neck. I cringed at him touching those places, even more so than I had with his hand between my legs. His left arm came around to hold the backs of my shoulders and the other went down to lift my knee in a jerk. He tipped me over the armrest of the couch and dropped me onto the cushions.

"Fuck, Matt!" He hopped over after, bearing himself above me by his knees at either side of mine. He yanked his striped shirt over his head and threw it, then leaned down, pressing his hands into the couch cushions. He lowered himself in push-up position on top of me, leaning to kiss and lick against my mouth again. He was so nonchalant about the entire endeavor, even as we were both men and in the middle of a death-defying race for our lives. I could hardly believe how eager he was, how apparently eager he'd always been. He drew back enough to hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. "Will this get it out of your system?" I demanded, avoiding staring at his obvious erection.

"Maybe," he said, grabbing one of my wrists and lifting it. He pulled off my gloves one at a time and then tossed them. "Or maybe it'll take a lot more times."

"I won't let you do this again."

"Oh, so you're letting me do it now? Good to know, Boss."

I snarled but he kissed me some more, moving down my chin and throat, purposefully tracing along the path of my scar tissue, continuing to my chest where his teeth closed on my nipple. I exhaled sharply. He nibbled further, down to my navel, while his fingers simultaneously peeled the hem of my pants to my knees. He sat back up, removing my boots for me and pitching them off the couch. He finished banishing my pants off my legs, grumbling about how tight they were, and then he dropped them to the floor as carelessly as everything else.

"Uh…turn over," he said. Any other time I wouldn't tolerate orders from him, but in this case he was the one with the experience, at least for the most part. I had absolutely no inkling as to how to proceed, so I allowed him to guide me for this one instance.

I moved up on to my elbows and turned over. "It still hurts," I mentioned reluctantly.

"I figured," he said, scratching his head briefly. "I don't exactly know what to do about that. It's not like I have the right stuff for this."

Incompetent as always, even given the circumstances. I sighed with a scowl and shook my head. "Just forget it and hurry up."

"Whatever you say." His hands clasped around my thighs and they were warm and slightly rough, from his calluses. He nudged my legs further apart and then the weight of his body was pinning me in place. I had to brace myself with my hands on the armrest, my knees sinking into the red leather of the ridiculous couch. My black fingernails curled into the studs holding the fabric to the frame, that rush of apprehension bolting through my spine just like last time. The expectancy was terrible, especially when he leaned in close and I could feel his hot breath before he kissed my lower back, making his way up my spine to my neck.

I flinched with a weak groan when I felt his wet fingers press into me. He moved them around, tentatively, in and out. I bared my teeth, biting them together hard to keep my voice restrained. My fingers curled under with more force as my elbows locked. "This hurt?" he asked.

"Stupid question," I barked through my teeth.

"I guess so." He removed his fingers and my arms went limp. All I did in the next few, quiet moments was try to keep breathing calmly. His hands swam around to cup my hips. "Hey, I'm going in," he said. I just grunted a brief reply and then he was inside me.

My muscles jolted in shock and pain, forcing a groan from my throat. "Damn!" I gasped, groaning again as he strained further in, leaning so that he could go deeper. I felt the added wetness, assuming he'd used a slick of spit to further aid his entry. At least he was thinking a little before he acted. "Damn it, damn it!" I punched the armrest and then clawed it viciously. My rosary beads rattled as he pumped against me, moving us together in a harsh rhythm. He moaned huskily into the back of my neck as he thrust roughly, causing pain to slice through me. I thought it would never quit, but the pleasure twisted through suddenly, vividly, practically cancelling out the agony.

"God!" I yelled, my knees threatening to buckle. Sweat burst across my body, clogging my breathing and igniting my heart. I sank down onto my chest, my arms not wanting to support me anymore, and took his forceful heaving. He continued unhindered, his thrusts getting faster and harder as I slowly climbed that final pinnacle, teeth grinding with it, wanting it to end. "Hurry, Matt…!" I ordered gruffly, my voice suffocating.

"Almost there," he breathed, quickening. "So far…it's only good for me… I wanted to try…" He trailed off and slid his hand between my legs again. I dug my nails straight into the flesh of my own palms, not expecting his act in the least. He fondled me while he moved, doubling the ecstasy and crippling me with it. "How's that? Good?" I didn't answer, refusing to encourage him in any way. "That must mean it's good." I stifled my cries by burying my face in my arm, clenching my fists so tightly that my nails drew blood from my hands. I was grinding my teeth together to the point of aching, so I just bit straight into my own wrist to stop myself. I kept straining my jaws until I tasted blood.

Shit! How could this feel so good? How could he have found a way to exert such power over me? I was helpless to this, completely helpless! I hated it and yet I wasn't-couldn't-stop it! I had returned to this apartment resolved to throw him out of my life forever, so how the hell had things ended up like THIS?

He came an instant before I did, he groaning and I shouting with our release. I slumped forward, my whole being gone flaccid and lifeless. I couldn't breathe, couldn't even think. He'd rendered me so positively defenseless. No one had ever done that before-not so completely—not since I was a small child. He collapsed on top of me, kissing my neck between heady intakes of air.

"How you doing?" he asked, reaching up and trailing his fingertips through the ragged ends of my hair.

"Fine," I snapped, panting. My palms and wrist were lightly bleeding from my self-mutilation, but the pain was barely even noticeable amidst the ebbing stimulation. "…Did you have to do this here…of all goddamn places?"

"You always have to be mad at me for something, huh?" he remarked, pushing up onto his knees. I turned onto my side, mopping my wet brow with the back of my forearm. "Whatever…" He took out a cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke in a huge sigh. He stretched his arms above his head and then sat back and lounged, plopping his boots on the coffee table.

"You'd better…be done with this phase of yours, or whatever it is," I said, catching my breath.

"Depends," he answered.

I swiped my damp hair from my eyes. "On what?"

"…On how long you stay as sexy as you've been lately," he answered, blowing smoke through his grinning teeth. I kicked him in the ribs and he coughed even as he started to laugh.

"Fucking jackass."

"…So how much longer until that Japanese guy gets here?"

"I gave him 18 hours before I call."

He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and flipped it open. "It's only 10:15. We got all night." I sat up, still wet and naked except for my rosary. He slung his arm over the back of the couch and smoked leisurely, smiling constantly at me with his feet up.

"You better wipe that smug fucking look off your face," I warned.

"Aw, but this is the first time I've ever gotten to be smug around you. I'm liking it pretty damn good so far..."

"Keep pushing your luck and you'll find yourself thrown swiftly out the window."

"Okay, okay…" He flicked his ash away and sighed again, scratching at his bare chest and then his belly. "So…if we got time to kill…how's about going at it again?" I glared at him in disbelieving outrage, my eyes wide and my mouth scowling. "What?" He shrugged. "Got something better to do for 17 more hours?"

"You are completely out of your mind," I declared, standing and grabbing my pants. The pain stung but I steadfastly ignored its existence.

"Oh, c'mon, don't make me take those off all over again!"

"Shut the hell up!" I hissed, stepping back as he stood in front of me. "This isn't happening again!"

"You sure?" he asked, strolling up to me with his cigarette held loosely in his lips. He rolled it from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue, walking me until we were only millimeters apart. I moved to step away but he pushed me so my back hit the wall. Why on earth had I yielded to him? How did he get me in this position? He leaned his arm on the bare brick next to my head and bent his face close to mine, soaking me in a fog of silver smoke. I lunged and clasped his throat in my hand to keep him at bay finally, but he just smirked in my face. "…Because it looks to me like you're ready for another go." I raised my eyebrow but he lowered his gaze and I finally realized I was still hard. My face tautened and went hot, and he just chuckled. "No big deal, Mello," he told me, fingers plucking at my loose hair again. "You're a human being too, aren't you?"

"I don't want this to happen!" I protested. "It's absurd! We're in the middle of a war, for fuck's sake!"

"Exactly," he said with a shrug, still puffing smoke in my face. "Who wouldn't wanna get some good fucks in while he had the chance? I know you want it, and what you want you get, right? So use me all you want, Mello. I don't mind being equipment for this." I didn't respond. "I suppose I could just leave you to suffer with that raging hard-on, but then I wouldn't be a very good bitch, now would I?"

I frowned and snatched the cigarette from his mouth, dropping it dynamically to the floor. "Stop smoking that in my face."

"Any other orders, Boss?"

"…There might be."

"…Wanna go to bed?"


	11. Chapter 10

**+Part 10+**

**November 24, 2009**

**2:00 p.m.**

The shrill beeping alarm on my cell phone went off, yanking me into the waking world. I rolled over onto my side on the thin, narrow cot, groping for the device while still groggy and mildly exhausted. I rubbed my eyelids and flipped it open, knowing I had set it for 2:00 the next day. At 3:00, 18 hours would have passed. I needed to go back to the apartment across from the SPK and call Mogi in an hour. I turned off the alarm and stretched my sore muscles. I sighed and sat up on my elbows, realizing in dry annoyance that Matt was flopped mostly on his stomach with an arm across my belly. His face was flattened to the mattress, not even on the pillow anymore. I kicked him away and he groaned in his sleep, rolling over so his back faced me. He mumbled, tugging the sheet with him, and then he was motionless again.

I shook my head and swung my feet off the bed, which wasn't at all made for two people to sleep on comfortably. He'd been mashed against me for most of the night, his breath and bare skin making me sweat. After we'd had sex again he'd passed right out and hadn't been even mildly conscious since, so I figured it was an opportune time to get amply needed rest. So much for that, considering I'd been crushed into a single uncomfortable position for over 12 hours…

I tossed the sheet away from me and stood, smelling the lately customary aromas of sweat, smoke, and intercourse all over me. I shook my head, wondering for the countless time what the hell had come over me. Where had this tolerance appeared from? Why had I allowed this, not just once, but a few times now? Damn it all, but I didn't have the luxury of time to think it over. I left him asleep on the bed and grabbed some fresh clothes, heading for the shower. Only a little bit of dead skin came off when I scrubbed this time, and none of my hair. Things might have been looking positive for once, I thought, until I saw the diluted blood washing down my thighs. I held in the outrage and took deep breaths so as not to lose my temper. I got out and dressed, then went back into the living room to grab the rest of my attire. I stepped over our clothes, which were still strewn all over the floor, couch, and even the coffee table, forcing myself to ignore it. I could worry about his raging hormones later, after business.

I pulled on my boots and zipped them, then slid on my jacket and checked my guns just to be absolutely certain. I made sure I had both my phones and an adequate supply of chocolate in my pockets. I thought about what else I would need, considering video surveillance. That shouldn't be necessary, considering it was the SPK building I would be concentrating on, and it was doubtful anyone who wasn't a member would be leaving willfully. I fully expected at least two of Mogi's fellow taskforce members to follow him, but they wouldn't be my concern until they made a move. I had rented an apartment all the way down the block as an extra precaution, and once I had guided Mogi where I wanted, the others would be focused on his location. To ensure no mistakes would be made, I would need to keep close visual contact with any and all movement entering and leaving the SPK headquarters. I wanted to curse myself for getting distracted. Now I had to scramble for things at the last minute. This was definitely not my usual level of efficiency.

I went back in the bedroom and shook Matt by the arm roughly, hoping he wouldn't be the bane of my existence for once when he woke. "Get up," I barked. He moaned and stretched and rolled over, ignoring me. "Damn you, get the fuck up!" I shook him harder and he groaned loudly, turning onto his back and moving a hand to his face.

"What…? What's the matter?"

"Where are the specs?" I asked.

He yawned and sat up, raking his fingers back through his disheveled mop of red hair. "Hnn? The specs?"

"Yes, the spy specs-the ones with infrared and night-vision capability."

"Oh…those…" He yawned again and stretched. "One of the hardware cases, I guess."

I sighed with a growl in my throat. "I could have guessed THAT much, you moron!"

"Hold on… I'll help you look." He rubbed his eyes with his fists and kicked the sheet away, standing from the bed. I avoided looking at his uncaring nudity until he headed straight for the door.

"Forgetting SOMETHING?" I sneered.

"What?" I grabbed his jeans from where he'd tossed them over the brass footboard and threw them in his face. He caught them clumsily as I brushed past him. "Oh, right. Those might be good to put on."

"No shit." I shook my head and started unclipping one of the aluminum hardware suitcases, digging through the disorganized piles of cords, wires, computer equipment, tools, and other gear. "This would go a lot faster if you bothered to organize anything," I grumbled.

He stumbled over to the coffee table, yanking his jeans over his naked ass, and didn't bother to fasten them as he dug around for a cigarette. He lit it as he walked to another aluminum case, scratching at his crotch. He opened the case and searched through its contents. "I think I tossed it in with the camera junk…" he said through another yawn, which was stifled due to the cancer-stick pursed in his lips.

"Which case is that in?"

"No idea."

"You are completely fucking useless."

"That's not what you said last night." I dropped what I was rummaging through and glared death at him, but he only snickered in amusement to himself. I walked over and he cringed in anticipation before I smacked him in the back of the head.

"I better have heard the end of this for good, you pig."

"Not likely," he replied, still smiling. I smacked him again. "Okay, okay…" He shrugged and then grumbled under his breath, smoking with steep inhalations. After a moment or so he brightened. "Here they are." He removed the padded case from amongst the other gear and handed it to me. I swiped it and began to stomp off. "Need any help?"

"If I do, I'll call you. I'm going to use Near to get information out of the Japanese taskforce."

"Good idea," he remarked, walking over to the kitchen and opening the fridge, ducking in front of it. He pulled out a pizza box and removed a cold slice, jamming it in his mouth. "How long will it take?"

"It might be a couple days, depending on how tight-lipped this Mogi is. I need to stay nearby to make sure Near doesn't try to pull anything, so I rented another apartment down the block from the SPK HQ."

"Mmm…" He hummed as he nodded, chewing. I easily avoided panning my gaze to stare at the sagging fly of his jeans. "Watch your back. Near might just decide to put you behind bars for the hell of it."

"He wouldn't do that."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I am, now shut up about things you don't understand."

He shrugged. "Do YOU even understand it? I never understood that weird vibe between you guys."

"I don't have time to talk about this."

"Yeah, I know. Don't sweat it." He noticed his goggles on the kitchen linoleum and plucked them up, pulling them around his neck and then up and over his eyes. "You better get going. I'll just loaf around here, I guess."

"Do you ever do anything else?" I grimaced, and then grabbed my motorcycle helmet and keys and headed out.

**November 24, 2009**

**3:04 p.m.**

I walked into the apartment just barely after three o' clock and dialed Mogi's number, listening to it ring once before he answered. "Hello…?"

"…I take it you're at the airport?" I continued to speak to him in Japanese, just to make it as easy as possible for us to clearly communicate. I didn't want him to miss anything.

"Yes," he answered. "I've only been here for about 20 minutes..."

"Good. Now, hail a taxi and go where I told you to go. And make sure you stay on the phone with me at all times."

"Okay." I listened to him move through the crowds and traffic, after a while shuffling as he climbed into the taxi and then clumsily told the driver where to go in bad English. It didn't take too long for him to thank the driver, so I took out the binoculars and went to the window, looking through towards the subway exit a block down. A tall, thickly-built Asian man was standing there alone, holding a cell phone. I waited to be sure. "I've arrived at Nick St. Station exit," he told me. I memorized his appearance from head to toe.

"Enter the building right across from you," I told him. I watched through the specs as he approached the front of the SPK Headquarters, looking around unsurely. I put down the binoculars and covered the mouthpiece of that phone. I removed my other, dialing Halle's number. She didn't answer at first, as I'd previously instructed, so I dialed again and this time she picked up. "Halle, it's me. Get me Near."

There was a brief pause and then I heard her say: "Near…it's Mello." I heard the rustle of cloth through the earpiece but he said nothing in greeting, as expected.

"Near, a man from the Japanese taskforce is going to show up at your place very soon. He's a well-built man, about 6' 2"." Silence. "Now, it's my turn to use you. I want you to let him in and ask him everything you need, but keep his cell phone on so that I can listen to your conversation through it. If L is really Kira, then pull information out of him that will convince me. I know you're good at that stuff. If you can do that, then I'll get Kira myself."

Doubtless Mogi was being monitored by his taskforce, which meant that L, and most likely Kira, was watching his every move. Hopefully, this Mogi wasn't the new L himself, but I had a feeling he wasn't, which Near would certainly confirm. By using Near, I would be completely safe regardless, since no one would be seeing my face.

I heard Gevanni say over the line: "Near, the man is here. He only has a cell phone and no cameras or bugs." After that, Near hung up. I waited, listening to Mogi's line, knowing Near was probably now testing somehow whether or not Mogi was L before he let him in. He would probably get in contact with the Japanese taskforce while speaking to Mogi at the same time, putting pressure on them and whichever one was Kira. That's exactly what I was counting on. I heard Mogi's footsteps on the metal floor, and then a heavy door opened, followed by more footsteps.

"Hello, pleased to meet you. I'm Near," Near said aloud in Japanese. "Please sit down. There's a lot of things I want to ask you about." Ideally, Near was saying this to rile the rest of the taskforce as they listened in. They were probably tapped into Mogi's cell phone, an easy enough thing to do. Of course, that also meant I had betrayed Near's location to them, as they were doubtless tracking Mogi's phone, but that was also part of my plan. Near surely realized he was in potential danger since Kira was on the taskforce, so he would have to hurry. Fine with me.

"Mogi, isn't it?" Near continued. "All Mello wants to do is capture Kira, just like we do. I'm sure you understand that." No response from Mogi. Damn, perhaps he wouldn't be helpful after all. But I couldn't underestimate Near's manipulative capabilities. "Won't you cooperate with us? And put your life at stake?" Bravo, Near. Deceive him into trusting that baby-face of yours with noble appeals. "You've met the former L, the real L, right? Is there anybody in the current team who L suspected even in the slightest of being Kira?" There was no response. This Mogi was as hardy as he looked. "…Even a yes or no would suffice," Near insisted. Still no answer. "Mello," he said aloud, changing the fake innocent tone of his voice to blatant venom, "there is a chance that this investigator is already being controlled by Kira so that he won't say anything."

What was he trying to…? Of course! I could easily twist this in our favor with my answer. "Right, Near," I agreed, snapping off a piece of my freshly opened bar of chocolate. "If he doesn't say anything, I think we can assume that Kira is in the Japanese taskforce." This would put plenty of stress on all who were listening, including the possible Kira. If his men began to suspect him, he would start to get pretty uncomfortable with all the suspicious eyes staring him down from his side. It was just like Near to use such a method, and I had no problem with guiding it further. "There's no reason for him not to want to cooperate to get Kira. Even if it's not by the notebook, he's still being controlled." I paused for added effect, certain now that L's whole team was listening in. I let the chunk of candy melt in my mouth. "…I actually had a bunch of guys test the notebook a number of ways, but nobody who wrote the names down died after thirteen days." This would definitely make Kira sweat.

"…The writer will not die even if that person does not write anything down for more than thirteen days. Is there anything that strikes you as odd about this, Mogi?" Near continued. "Even the slightest thing will do." Mogi still neglected to answer. Even if he provided no useful information, this would put substantial strain on Kira to eliminate his obstacles as quickly as possible, which would hopefully bring him out in the open, and with any luck, he would end up making a mistake somewhere. I was also confident that the bait I'd dangled in his face was too good to pass up. Now that Kira knew where Near was, he would surely go after him. I didn't expect him to show up in person, but it was worth a try. Perhaps he would betray himself with a clue. "All we want to do is get Kira, so there's no reason for us to lie to you. I'm sure it is uneasy for you to have one of your members suspected of being Kira. Then it should be much easier if we talk about it and settle this problem once and for all." I listened in the whole time, but Mogi remained dead-silent, not answering a single one of Near's questions.

I suppose now I would have to play the waiting game again.

**November 26, 2009**

**10:09 a.m.**

It wasn't until two days later that anything at all developed. Mogi hadn't said a word in that entire span of time, which well impressed me. Few men could stand up to Near's negotiating tactics. But on the third day the din of helicopters broke the monotony. I continued to listen in on Near's patient interrogation as I stepped up to the window and looked out and up, seeing two helicopters approaching in the distance. They didn't look like military choppers… Another surveying of the area below and I could see crowds of black-clad people beginning to gather at the street corners, growing ever larger in number. What was going on…? Was this it? Was Kira finally mobilizing his radicals?

I continued to watch as the mob converged, plugging up the traffic for blocks. The people were mostly masked and carried various bludgeoning weapons. Some of them wore Kira flags and nearly all wore black and red Kira armbands. It reminded me of skinheads and I continued to watch as they swarmed the SPK building on all sides, throwing projectiles at the windows and chanting angrily.

I listened through Mogi's line, hearing the SPK realize the assault. It was Halle who said: "Near, if we stay here, we're going to be dragged out…" If that mob dragged them out into the street where they could be seen, they would doubtlessly be caught on film for Kira to view, and that would be the end of them. With this convenient timing… The mob appeared right after Mogi was kidnapped…

There can be absolutely no doubt about it now: Kira is the new L.

Rester spoke next. "We've got no choice but to bring our men and…"

Just then, there was a mechanical beep and then a distorted computerized voice resounded through the room. "What's the problem, Near?" the voice questioned. The new L! "I knew that Mello sent our investigator Mogi to your place, and we asked him to remain silent while we listened to what you had to say, in order to figure out if you were worthy of our trust and cooperation. But if this continues on, Mogi will be…" A likely explanation. "Is this a plan by Mello to get rid of the SPK? Or was the SPK so poorly organized that even the public was able to find out where your hideout was?" Ha! The bastard was lying his ass off. The mob started a bonfire outside the doors, throwing bottles and bricks at the windows, trying to break them. Eventually they would succeed. L continued. "Near, you must escape."

He was too insistent, and Near retorted bluntly enough with, "Look who's talking, Kira."

I smirked at that.

"Wh-What…?" L replied. "Are you still going on about that? If you don't do something, Mogi's going to be killed too! You must escape…" He was definitely a superb actor.

"All this happened right after Mr. Mogi showed up. There are only a handful of people who could have known that he was coming here," Near said. "There are other organizations in other countries that are also trying to capture Kira, so I find it hard to believe that this is a mere coincidence. You are Kira." Near no longer possessed any doubts, and this was all the confirmation I needed. "You did it with the hopes of killing all the SPK members and Mogi. And once we all die, you're going to kill everybody else on the Japanese taskforce. That's your plan." Easy enough to deduce, but he declared it so bluntly for the benefit of the taskforce members listening in. This would cause tension in the ranks.

L's response was not what I expected for someone using that name. "Wh-What? Stop joking, Near! You're making a mistake and assuming it's correct!" The real L would never let an opponent get to him. The real L would remain cold and calculating, and deliver back an equally humbling remark. This person was good enough at posing as L to the world, but to those of us who had known the genuine article, he just couldn't come close. How could he lose his cool over something so simple? It was almost laughable.

Near didn't back down in the slightest. "Everyone on the Japanese taskforce, Kira is among you, at the very least. Please think about that." The mob got rowdier, thrashing at the windows with pipes and bats, soon enough starting to argue and turn on each other and growing increasingly violent.

Rester spoke up. "Near, we've got to do something fast…"

"Such foolish people…" Near observed, and I could hear the wheels in his head turning. "I am not surprised that some people support Kira, but those people hope that Kira will bring justice to an evil world… The people who are storming this building are a completely different type…a far more hopeless kind." Here was another of Near's righteous speeches. I watched the people swarming the front of the building, bickering and throwing things and screaming all as the announcer from Japan's Sakura TV hollered above them from one of the helicopters. I more or less tuned Near out as I watched the spectacle, wondering how Near would get out of this. "They either end up as killers, acting completely opposite from Kira's true values because they worship so blindly…or they are the 'if you can't beat them, join them' type, who followed the worshippers here…or they are idiots who just want to rampage and destroy themselves, and quite a few of them are actually against Kira…"

"Near…" Rester spoke up, "this isn't the time to analyze the people down there."

Ever the cool voice of reason.

"On the contrary," Near returned, "originally, Kira supporters were observers who didn't want to be hurt themselves… The ones rampaging down there are egocentric people who just want to enjoy themselves, right?"

"Y-Yes, but…"

For Christ's sake, didn't any of his subordinates possess a backbone?

"Then we'll use that to our advantage by using L's fortune and all the anti-Kira people we hired."

As was typical, Near didn't allow anyone to get much of a word in edgewise. What was his plan? Using L's fortune?

"B-But that plan is just a stopgap measure…" Rester began.

"Let's do it. We should be prepared. It's going to be fun."

Selfish and disrespectful of people's concerns as always. I continued to look out the window, noticing something flicker across the sky, blotting at the sunlight for a fraction of a second. Then another flicker, and another, and I realized that American dollars were raining down from above. The hundred dollar bills poured out from the SPK building's high windows, showering the rioters below, stopping them in their tracks. They all froze in a wave, tilting their faces upward. And then the chaos started in as people scrambled to grab at the money, shoving people out of the way and trampling to get at it. Clever, Near, very clever. What a perfectly hilarious solution. I imagined that they would escape while the awe-struck mob was distracted.

"Mello," Near said to me, "we're going to escape now, so I'm going to turn off Mr. Mogi's cell phone." With that, the line went dead. I lowered my phone and continued to watch out the window. Several men in full-body riot armor mobilized down the block, crashing into the mob and beginning to forcibly subdue them. All their faces were hidden behind tinted shields, and utilizing this disguise would be a perfect way for Near and the rest of the SPK to escape right under Kira's nose.

Now they would have to relocate, but I could find out where from Halle later. For now, I had to lay low until the commotion died down.

**November 26, 2009**

**7:27 p.m.**

"I can't believe you didn't grab me any of that cash, man," Matt was complaining for the 20th time. I ate my chocolate in my chair and ignored him for the 20th time. "I just stared at the TV, drooling all over myself. They were ALL hundreds, dropping like rain! Shit…"

"Would you rather be rich or alive, you dumbass?" I finally barked, losing my patience.

"Is that a trick question?" he asked, playing on a brand new PSP, this one a ceramic white color. When he'd gotten it, I had no clue. In spite of me he probably had an entire heap of them stashed away.

"You're already loaded from ripping off people online, or did you forget?"

"You can never have too much money," he replied. "No such thing."

"Whatever… Did you even hear anything I've been trying to tell you?"

"Yeah, I heard it. Near has one of the Japanese taskforce members in custody thanks to you, but he won't talk, so he'll probably try to get to the other guys soon. Kira/L sent a mob to take out the SPK, but they dumped all that sweet cash out the windows and escaped. So now you're sure the fake L is Kira, and his taskforce will be suspicious of him now."

"Now I just have to find out who the new L is… Once I find that out…the rest will come into place..."

"So what's the next move?"

"Near's definitely relocated the SPK by now. I'll call Halle soon and ask where they are, and find out if they've gotten any information from Mogi yet."

"Still think you can trust her? What if it's all an act?"

"Everything she's told me so far has been confirmed."

"So? That doesn't mean Near hasn't gotten his little claws into her anyway."

"She won't betray Near because that wouldn't be in her own interests…but I can say almost certainly that she won't betray me either."

"Yeah, how? She in love with you or something?" I stopped raising my chocolate to my teeth, for some reason unable to react. Anger would have been smarter to deter his attention, but instead I was slightly stunned to hear such a thing out loud. "Whoa, wait…are you shitting me?" I didn't look at him, inexplicably uncomfortable with the thought of doing so. "So what happened, love at first sight? How did THAT work-she got a thing for toasted teenagers?"

I scowled, my hand tightening around my chocolate. "How the fuck should I know?"

"You kiss her?"

"No, I didn't. It was the other way around."

His eyebrows raised on his forehead. "You move fast." He whistled. "Any tongue?"

"Don't fucking talk to me like I planned for this!"

"Who says you didn't? You plan everything else."

"How the fuck could I plot for a stranger to get attached to me in a week? I barely know the woman! She's being irrational!"

"Yeah, like you'd even know HOW to seduce a woman on purpose…" He played his game as he spoke. "So did you fuck her to get the information out of her?"

"Of course not! Is that how you think I operate?"

"You've done every other sleazy trick in the book. You even joined the Mafia. How should I know you wouldn't fuck a woman just to get her to talk?"

"I'm fucking fed up with you, Matt!" I snapped.

"Maybe she's sick of stuffy guys her own age and wants some young tail again? Or maybe she just has a scar fetish?"

"Shut up!"

"Why? No reason to be mad if you scored with a sexy older woman. Wanna come over and give me a high five or something?"

I leapt from the chair and threw my chocolate in his face. It smacked him hard and fell to the floor, breaking in half. "Shit, what're you so upset about?"

"You keep mocking me no matter how much I tell you to shut your face! I'm sick of you!" I stood and stomped off, going into the bedroom. I whipped out my phone and dialed her number, listening to it ring twice before she answered. So she wasn't at the SPK.

"Hi, Mello," she said, softly. Suddenly her voice threatened to relax me, and that didn't sit well at all. "I'm glad you didn't get caught up in the riot."

"I was at a safe distance," I told her impatiently. "I know the SPK has relocated. Where are you now?"

"We've moved to a small office building in Manhattan…" She gave me the address and I memorized it.

"It's unlikely I'll ever need to go there, but it's just a precaution."

"I see." She sighed lightly. "I had to switch apartments as a safety measure after those Kira supporters stormed our building. I'm trying to move in and get settled."

"Has Mogi said anything yet?"

"No, he hasn't said a single word. He's very impressive, if he's not being controlled by Kira, that is."

"Yes… Perhaps he wasn't the ideal choice, but he was my only option." I thought a moment. "What is Near's next move?"

"We dumped Mogi's cell phone in the commotion so our location can't be traced again, and now Near is planning to wait for another member of the taskforce to come forward and cooperate with us. He has no doubt that they'll be suspicious of L now, and so maybe come to our side."

"I see… That way, maybe Near can actually get some valuable information out of one of them if they come voluntarily… It's the next logical step. I'll check in regularly, so keep me posted on any developments."

"I will." She was quiet for a moment and I considered hanging up. "Mello, are you alright?"

"What do you mean? Of course I'm alright."

"…You sound different." What was she talking about? "I must be imagining things. Maybe it's the stress… I haven't been able to sleep much lately…" I listened to her breathe into the line. "Mello, can I ask you a question?"

"That depends," I answered suspiciously.

"Who is Matt?" My fist clenched around the phone. "He must be another child from Wammy's House, right? Did he grow up together with you and Near? Near said you were working with him, but you never mentioned anything like that."

"Why do you always inquire about things that aren't your concern?" I sneered. "I have to go now, Halle." I hung up before she could say anything more. I rubbed my temple and tossed the phone on the bed in irritation.

"Trouble in paradise?" I looked over and Matt was leaning against the doorjamb, puffing away.

"Get out," I barked.

"Your woman not measuring up anymore?"

"She's not my woman, you ass! I instigated no part of her ridiculous infatuation!"

"I guess it doesn't take much, huh?" he remarked. "You seem to be irresistible lately. It worked on me, anyway."

I shook my head, hissing through my teeth. "You're a horny dog!" I accused. "I'm just a convenience for you, but she's out of her mind! She actually asked me to run away with her…!" I sighed angrily at the thought.

"Are you for real?" I nodded. "So why didn't you?"

I stared at him. "Are you insane? Kira is still breathing-that's why!"

"And that's the only reason? What if Kira was as dead as a doornail? Would you run away with her then?"

"What the hell are you talking about? Do you honestly think I'd elope with some smitten female agent? What sort of idiot do you take me for?"

He shrugged. "It's not stupid to want a normal life, is it?"

"For people like us, it is. We aren't just some regular citizens, Matt. You do understand that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. Guys like us are meant to be alone. It's safer that way, easier to operate. We got no names and no faces. We don't exist."

"Are you saying you want to quit after all?"

He plucked the cigarette from his lips and flicked the ash as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "No, I don't want to quit. I know things can never be quiet and peaceful for us, and that's the way I like it. I wouldn't want a life like that-it'd be boring as hell." He raised the cigarette back to his lips but paused an inch away. "So you don't like her?"

"She's nothing but a utensil, and therefore I have no feelings whatsoever about her."

"You sure about that? You sure that pretty face didn't affect you somewhere-somewhere you didn't know about before?"

"Why the interrogation? Why the fuck do you care in the first place?" I stood and walked to the door, trying to push past him. He grabbed my arm, jerking me back to him. "Back off!"

"You're not just convenient for me, Mello," he said out of nowhere. "Do you really think I'd consider another guy-especially one with your temper-convenient? Yeah, right."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying…that I don't go around chasing guys. Get it?"

"I could care less what you're into."

"Hnn? Oh really?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm not sure, exactly…" He shrugged. "I'm your utensil too, remember? Are you saying you got no feelings whatsoever where I'm concerned?"

"Anger, at the moment," I sneered.

"Nothing else, huh?"

"What the fuck are you babbling about?" I shoved him away with my hand but he snatched my wrist. "Hey!"

"Where's your bracelet?" he asked, keeping his gloved fist clamped around my wrist.

I didn't answer for a whole second. "What's it to you?"

"Did you lose it?"

"It's doesn't matter. I have another one."

"Yeah, but it isn't THAT one. You always wore that gold cross thing. I figured it was special or something."

"Well, you figured wrong. Now drop it." I slapped his hand away and turned, going back into the den.

"…You were a virgin before me, weren't you?" he asked from where he stood in the door.

My spine jolted stiff and I halted, whirling back to face him as the fury bled into my senses, heating that place in my chest. "What the fuck did you SAY?"

He put the cigarette back in his mouth, smiling through it. "I think that's a yes."

"You dirty bastard!" I hissed under my breath. "How DARE you even…?" I put my hand to my head, almost going dizzy with rage. "You motherfucker!"

"Cool your jets," he remarked. "Nothing to be embarrassed about."

"EMBARASSED?" I bellowed. "You stupid asshole-I'm PISSED!"

"What else is new?"

"I'm going to kill you!" I declared.

"Why? I expected you'd be a virgin, Mello. You got better things to do, right? You're brain doesn't work like mine-it doesn't have as much extra space. What's important to me isn't important to you. Like I said before, you're complicated. Sex isn't high on your list." He shrugged again.

"Why do you keep this up? You never fucking talked so much before! You never cared about anything before! Now suddenly you know me-get me? Now suddenly you're insightful?"

"Just because I don't talk your ear off doesn't mean I can't think. I'm smarter than you give me credit for."

"Fuck you, I know that! I just don't get this sudden change! You haven't changed since we were seven years old, and then this!"

"I told you before; I finally got sick of waiting. Enough's enough. I saw an opportunity and I took it."

My entire thought process had to stop and rewire. "An opportunity?" I questioned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed and finished off his cigarette, snuffing it out on the bottom of his boot. He pushed his goggles back onto his head after that and rubbed his eyes. "It means I saw you were feeling vulnerable and I took a shot. I wasn't sure if you would let me or not, but you did. I took advantage."

"Vulnerable? VULNERABLE-?" I thought my blood would boil up through my eyes any second.

"Yeah, yeah, you're mad at me. I'm used to it. Go ahead and hit me and yell at me all you want. I've told you a thousand times that I don't mind if you use me however you want, as long as you STOP denying that you WANT to use me. Even if I'm just a tool and you feel nothing, don't try and get rid of me anymore. Order me around and saddle me with labor and punish me for no reason. Shove the bit in my teeth and bolt the shackles and crack the whip. Anything you want-just don't ever lie to me. Okay?"

I scoffed, my rage suddenly quashed in the aftermath of his words. Why was he being so genuine? Why couldn't I react properly? Why couldn't I stay pissed at him for an extended period anymore?

"What sense would there be in lying to you? You already fucking know everything about me, apparently! Why don't you go write a book about it?" I turned my back and went for a bar of chocolate. Another holiday package of it had arrived that morning, and I eagerly began to devour one.

"…Sorry, Mello. I didn't mean to-"

"I don't care," I snapped. "I don't care about anything you say."

"I just wanted you to know I didn't fuck you because you were there. I don't just stroll around fucking everything with a hole in it."

"Just drop it! I don't care what your reasons are-and I don't want to hear anymore!"

"Would you listen to me? I do have things to say once in a while." He walked closer to me and I stiffened again, my trigger finger twitching. I chewed my chocolate harder. "Why'd you let me do it if you weren't feeling weak? I know you well enough to know you would've punched my teeth up into my skull if it was any other time. If you were in your normal unforgiving state, I would've had a broken nose at least. But, you actually let me in. You let your guard down for once. How else could that have happened unless you were feeling fallible for the first time? Don't think I can't read you, Mello. Don't think I can't tell."

"Just shut up! I'm NOT fallible! I'm untouchable-I always have been! The only reason you got anywhere was because I had a fleeting whim and decided to humor you! I was entertaining your delusions-that's all! I was frustrated with the case and felt like being distracted! That's all it was! That's all you are-a distraction!" He didn't say anything and I broke off a huge chunk of chocolate, refusing to look at him. "Now leave. I don't care what you do, or where you go, just leave for a while. I can't stand to hear you breathe right now."


	12. Chapter 11

**+Part 11+**

**November 28, 2009**

**5:17 p.m.**

I never considered myself to be a childish person. I knew that I was emotionally charged and brash, and I was well aware that I had possessed a short fuse for as long as I could remember. I also had no choice but to admit I had a brutal inferiority complex and hated to be outdone or humiliated. But despite all those things, I had never considered myself childish, until now. I pushed it to the back of my mind while for days I stubbornly avoided any and all confrontations with Matt. His stupidity lately was almost cruel. He had actually admitted to my face that he targeted me for intimacy at this point in time because he thought I was vulnerable! ME, vulnerable? He claimed to know me-so shouldn't he have known me well enough to keep his flapping mouth shut? If he had such self-destructive opinions, he should have kept them to himself.

I gave him several orders that I hoped would keep him occupied for a good while, and then I left the apartment to rent one across from the new SPK headquarters. I set up surveillance equipment and watched the lack of activity for days with utter disinterest. As much as I hated to realize it, I was irrevocably distracted. Vulnerable? How had he gotten that idiotic notion? Was it because I had panicked after seeing the finality of my wounds? I had been upset, angered, flustered, yes-but not vulnerable! I hadn't been vulnerable since- I stopped the thought. When? Could I even remember an exact moment? No, by this time in my life, childhood memories before Wammy's House were nothing but a fading blur. I couldn't even rightly call them memories any longer… They were more like half-assed nightmares drifting on the edge of my brain. Perhaps I had been vulnerable once, but not since, and certainly not now.

My orange cell phone beeped and I wanted nothing more than to ignore it completely, but as farfetched as the notion was, it could be important. I picked it up from the table I had in the room and flipped it open, putting it to my ear. "What?"

"I was out running those errands and noticed a Japanese guy outside the old SPK HQ," Matt said, especially lethargically.

"A Japanese guy?"

"Yeah. He seemed to be scoping the place out, maybe for clues as to where the SPK disappeared to."

"What does he look like?"

"Well, he's pretty tall, almost 6 feet I'd say, which is impressive, and his hair is neat and close to the skin. He looks like he doesn't bother to shave. Judging from the NPA files you had me hack today…he's…Shuichi Aizawa, a member of the Japanese Kira taskforce. He's been a police officer for most of his life, and has been on the Kira case since it began."

"So Aizawa is here," I said, nibbling the edge of the chocolate in my hand. "He must've tailed Mogi. I haven't seen Mogi leave the new SPK yet, so I'm assuming Near still has him in custody. His colleagues must be wondering why Near still has him locked up and are getting nervous…especially after that mob stormed the place."

"I bet Kira/L is sweating big time. You think Mogi will give anything up?"

"He didn't say a single word for two straight days, so I doubt it. Then again, Near could still end up cracking him before he lets him go."

"Hnnn…" He breathed in the line for a while. "Well, he's just mulling around the building. He's been doing it for about 20 minutes… He's going inside now..."

"He won't find anything. Near would never leave evidence behind unless it was intentional. Halle said Near was intending for the other Japanese taskforce members to side with him and give up information…so eventually, he'll guide one of them to him. Keep an eye on Aizawa, Matt."

"Okay, got it."

I hung up without waiting for the awkward silence that would follow my orders. I threw the phone on the table again and lounged stiffly back on the chair I was occupying. I propped one heel on the table and the other over the armrest, chewing my chocolate angrily. I still needed his assistance, I knew that, but I didn't want to need it. I wanted to send him away. He told me he would never go willingly, that leaving was the only order of mine he would never comply with. He said he could tell I was lying when I said I didn't need him. He said he could always tell when I was lying, even when no other person on earth could besides my arch-rival. He said he knew I needed him-that he knew he was the only person I would ever ask for help.

Was he so devoted, truly? Why did I continue to question his word? I believed him, didn't I? It was who he was, who he'd always been. He was the only human being I trusted completely on this planet, now that L was dead. Even then, L was not to be completely trusted by anyone. I trusted Near, but in a different way entirely. I trusted his abilities, and I trusted him to understand my way of thinking, but I couldn't speak to him in confidence and I could never go to him for help. I would vomit my internal organs before I EVER asked Near for help. But I could go to Matt with no weight on my conscience, and trust him with every word, every secret.

So why couldn't I entirely accept his level of commitment?

My phone beeped again less than half an hour later and I picked it up. "What now, Matt?" I demanded.

"I followed Aizawa from the old SPK, and it looks like he's staying at a hotel down the street from it. He's in a room with another Japanese guy on the fifth floor. I didn't get a real good look at the guy, but thinking back to the photos… By process of elimination in has to be Hideki Ide. That means Kira/L or…Touta Matsuda is still in Japan."

"I see. I can't be sure that Matsuda is L like Yagami told me…so it's likely that there's a sixth member."

"Yeah... It took some extra hacking, but I found out that guy, Yagami, had a son who joined the NPA right out of college. Apparently he's some kind of prodigy, a real genius… He scored highest on the entrance exams of the most affluent college in Japan, and was their star student alongside some guy named Hideki Ryuga, who had no photo. I bet Yagami's kid is on the Kira special taskforce just like his dad was."

"Yagami's son, huh…? I remember his name was strange… Light, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, that's what it says. Light Yagami. Weird."

I thought a minute. "So…it's unlikely that the current L would come here in person, even to tail Mogi…so Aizawa and Ide probably aren't L/Kira. They could still be serving Kira, or be under his control though…"

"Maybe."

"So, in all likelihood, that leaves us with Light or Matsuda as L-as Kira."

"Looks that way, unless Mogi is."

"Near wouldn't have kept him in custody if he was."

"That's true. So we've got it down to two."

"…Keep surveillance on Aizawa and Ide, okay? Although I doubt it, it's possible one of them could actually be L. I'm sure after we set up L like that…one of them will contact Near soon, unless they're being controlled. It'll have to be in the next few days so the rest of the taskforce back in Japan won't get too suspicious... When we see which one of them makes a move, that will narrow down our suspects for L even more definitively."

"Okay, I'll go to the apartment you rented down the block and keep a camera on the hotel. I also got that car you wanted."

"Good."

"Got us a '70 Chevelle… Black, leather interior."

"I don't care, Matt."

"Yeah, I know, I'm just trying to keep you on the line as long as I can."

I felt my remaining eyebrow tweak upwards. "Quit playing around."

"I'm not. You only talk to me when you're giving orders."

"How is that any different than it's ever been?"

"…We talked a lot more when we were kids," he offered distantly.

"That's because naïve kids never run out of bullshit things to blather about. We aren't kids anymore, Matt."

"I know we're not. I sorta miss it, almost. Things were easier then…"

"Everything's easier when you're ignorant and sheltered. This is the real world."

"Yeah. Sucks."

"Just get off the line and do what you're told."

"…Okay, Mello."

I hung up abruptly, feeling as my teeth clenched on reflex. I threw the phone across the room in frustration, growling to myself. Why did he insist on this? The safe distance we'd kept between each other had worked so well up to this point. We had been so very close as children, from the year we met until we were thirteen years old. We'd even shared a bunk for most of our lives. And then L chose his heirs and my competition with Near began, tossing Matt into the background and leaving him to drift further and further away from me. Once he left I didn't anticipate ever seeing him again. After I struck out on my own I'd resolved to seek him out so I would have a definite source of assistance. That had turned out to be a wise decision with how the situation ended up. I lost all my manpower with the base explosion, and nearly my life. If I'd have been on my own...if Matt hadn't been there...I would have died. I knew that, admitted it.

These past few years there'd been a silent understanding of boundaries between us, and it had endured without a wrinkle. We were no longer children, and I was no longer ignorant to the truth of the real world. Thus, I had kept him at arm's length, and there he'd remained until the night my bandages came off for the last time. Why did he ruin everything? I sighed deeply and took a final bite, wrapping up the rest of the candy in the foil and jamming it in my pocket. I stomped over to grab my phone and flipped it open again, speed-dialing him.

"You're actually calling me back?" he asked.

"Shut up, smartass," I barked. "I'm leaving for a while, but I don't think they'll let Mogi out before one of the other taskforce members goes to Near-so you had better fucking keep an eye on both of them. Notify me immediately if either one of them goes to the new SPK."

"Okay, sure…but where are you going?"

"To church."

I hung up and put both my phones in my jacket pockets next to my chocolate, patted my inner lining to be sure my gun was in place, and then left the cameras to record while I exited the apartment. I called the city directory and asked the address for the nearest Catholic chapel. There was a Cathedral two blocks over that served evening Mass every two hours, so I could catch the 7:00 one. I slipped my helmet over my head and hopped on my motorcycle, sliding back the kickstand and starting the engine. I put it in gear and revved it, letting off the brakes and tearing out of the parking complex. I found my way to the towering Cathedral and parked along the side, as far away from the main street as possible. I left my helmet on the bike and threw up my hood, walking up the front steps and past the doors.

Instantly the melody of an amateur choir hit my ears simultaneously with the scent of antique wood and incense filling my nostrils. I hadn't been to church in several years, but that was understandable considering my circumstances. Wammy's House had a chapel at the institution, but it was ambiguous and poorly organized. To set foot in a genuine Catholic church again was instantly comforting, and the familiarity of every sensation allowed me at last to breathe easily. My mind dulled, calmed, and I released my tense muscles. A couple of the well-dressed families around me stopped to gawk, but I ignored them and brushed past to sit in the very back pew. I lowered to my knees and crossed myself, clasping my gloved hands together in prayer. A couple churchgoers ventured onto the pew I was occupying, attempting to sit next to me, but I delivered a sharp glare and they cleared their throats and moved to a different seat.

I finished the Lord's Prayer and crossed myself again, moving back onto the bare wooden bench. I kept my head bowed all throughout the service in order to avoid anybody getting a good look at me. I listened to the Priest read from scripture and the choir sing a couple hymns. They served Communion but I remained seated, as I hadn't gone to Confession in years and wasn't permitted to receive the Eucharist. Altogether it was a brief mass, just the basics, and in less than an hour the people began to file out the doors. Once the chapel was empty except for servers, I knelt down again, pushing back my hood to lift my rosary over my neck. I clutched the rosewood beads between my fingers and began to say the appropriate prayer sequence for each of the charms, all while I listened to the choir run through the set of hymns for the next mass. It would be Advent soon…and then Christmas…

I let the comfort soak into every nerve and cell of my body, finally relaxing for the first time in the past four years. The choir began to sing a haunting verse of "Ave Maria" and it sank me deep into a place I never thought I could find again. The song soothed me, easing away the constant tension that had settled over me in the last several years of my life.

I made it over halfway through my Rosary, finishing a Hail Mary in my head before the priest approached the pew I was in. "Would you like to confess, my son?" he questioned gently.

I glanced up, seeing he was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a kind smile. Long ago I was accustomed to all these sights and sounds. Long ago I would have called this home. Not anymore, but at the moment my mind was begging to be freed from its restlessness. This place pleaded with me to let it soothe me down to my bones, and I wanted to allow it. It had been…nearly 13 years since I had gone to Confession, or even sat through a full Catholic mass. What did I have to lose? I would just have to go back to that crappy apartment and sit, now and then deal with Matt, and then brood over how I would win this case and put Kira to death. Life-threatening monotony was all I had to return to.

I could appreciate this deviation from my routine, but it wasn't my place to ask God's forgiveness when I did not regret my actions. I had strayed far from the path I was taught as a child, and that was just fine with me. Religion was nothing more than a part of my biology now-another gene in the DNA chain. The beliefs didn't remain anymore; they just served to provide the illusion of mental security. There was no substance to my faith anymore, if there had ever really had been. I was a criminal now, a cold-blooded killer. I didn't entertain delusions of righteousness, not at all. I did as I pleased with no regard for anyone else. I did whatever it took to accomplish my ambitions. I felt no remorse because I lacked the conscience for it. So, asking for God's forgiveness was unnecessary, because I simply did not feel the need to earn it. Religion was nostalgia to me now…and nothing more.

"I'm afraid that would take much more free time than you have available, Father," I told him, standing. "The next Mass starts in an hour."

"There is always ample time to be closer to the Lord," he replied, still gently. I would have walked away in the other direction, but then I would have to double-back in a huge arc around the entire chapel. He was pretty much blocking the door. "It looks like you're carrying a lot of weight on your shoulders, son," he continued. "Would you like to alleviate it? The good Lord is always willing to listen."

I smirked beneath my drape of blonde hair before I put my rosary back around my neck and flipped my jacket hood up. "I'm not sure He'd want to listen to the horror stories I have for Him."

"If they're so horrible, then that's all the more reason to seek absolution."

What could it hurt? At the very least, it would kill some time. "Alright, Father. Lead the way." Further distractions would increase the amount of time before I had to go back and deal with all the shit I'd left behind. The priest nodded and led me down the aisle and off to the right, down a dim hallway and up to the Confessional box. He opened one end for me and I stepped in, and then I heard him sit down in the opposite side and slide open the grille. I knelt down and crossed myself. He said the opening statements and then asked what I had to confess. He was spiritually obligated to keep my confidence, and so anything I said would never be told to the police, or anyone else for that matter. I could absolutely count on that-it was one of his sacred vows as a priest. Anything I said here was between me and God. "Well, for starters, I've been responsible for more people's deaths than I can really keep track of," I said, leaning back against the wall. I fingered my rosary beads in my gloved hand and listened to him breathe.

"...You mean you've killed that many people?" he asked in slight astonishment.

"I didn't kill ALL of them personally, but I was responsible. I ordered a man to be tortured and he ended up dead, I kidnapped another man and he was shot to death, and several more died under my watch. That doesn't include the large number of people I ordered to be killed."

"So you were in a position of power that allowed for such monumental judgments on human life?"

"Yes. I had to take out a good many people in heinous ways to make it where I am. My initiations involved a number of murders, manipulations, and betrayals."

"I see… So many innocent lives have been taken at your hands?"

"Not all of them were innocent, but yes, it was my doing."

"…Is there anything else you wish to confess?"

"I suppose not much else compares to murder, Father, but among other things…robbery, kidnapping, extortion, fraud, smuggling…and many other sins I don't have the time to name. I've broken just about every Commandment." The back of my mind pricked at the thought of sodomy being added to the list, but I pushed it away. That sure as hell didn't need to be said.

"My," he said, taking a shaky breath. "You've accumulated quite a list, son…"

"I told you, Father." I let go of my hold on the rosewood beads around my neck. "I must be going now."

"Wait, don't you seek penance?"

"No, Father. I don't seek penance because I do not have Perfect Contrition."

"All the same, may God forgive your sins in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

I crossed myself along with him. "Good night, Father." I got up and left the Confessional, heading out and down the aisle. The next guests were piling in and I kept my head low and ducked out of the building between them.

**November 29, 2009**

**3:45 a.m.**

There were no developments the rest of the night, not even on Matt's end, so I just stared at the unchanging computer screen for hours until I finally got sick of the stuffy reek of the cheap hole in the wall I was watching from. It was a mixture of mothballs, soiled carpet, and other odors I couldn't even begin to decipher, nor did I want to. It was soaked into my clothes by this time and I couldn't bear to sit in one place and inhale it any longer. I went to the bathroom to turn on the shower, but the pipes screeched before the faucet rattled and spurted out a splash of brown water, and then went silent. Fucking perfect.

The Chinatown apartment was too far out of my way, but the apartment across from the old SPK was closer than that. I didn't want to see his face at all tonight, but I didn't want to drive all the way across the city and back either.

I left the camera recording and drove off on the motorcycle, going to the apartment in the business district where he currently was, spying on the Japanese taskforce members. I unlocked the door and went in, kicking it shut behind me. I heard his thumbs tapping and the computer equipment running, but I didn't say a word and instead went straight to the bathroom. I locked the door and took off my clothes, standing under the shower. The water pressure was terribly weak and barely hot enough, but it would do. I scrubbed at my hair and wounds, seeing that my flesh had stopped peeling and my scalp had stopped shedding. I probably wouldn't need to hide my face so much anymore.

I hadn't known he was in the bathroom until he yanked the shower curtain back without warning, nearly making me jump, I hate to say. I could immediately see he was absent of his shirt, boots, and gloves. Only his jeans, belt, and for some reason his goggles remained. He just stood there staring at me through those big orange lenses, the steam from the liberated heat of my bath fogging them quickly. I was already soaked from head to toe, my hair heavy and matted to my cheeks, and so it was easy for me to throw him a hostile glare.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I hissed, still getting battered with the lukewarm shower water.

"Have fun at church?"

"Go the hell away, already!"

"It takes a lot to piss me off, Mello," he said lethargically, his tone not matching his apparently miffed attitude. "You're avoiding me."

"You're imagining things!" I spat. "Now get the fuck out of here! Can't you see I'm-"

"Yeah, I know, that's why I came in here. The lock was easy enough to pick." He stepped over the tub and under the water, still in his jeans.

"Are you fucking crazy?" He yanked his goggles off his head and tossed them, taking a step towards me, which submerged him in the shower. I stepped back at the same time, escaping the spray and feeling the cold air instantly suction around me. "Shit! Back off!"

"Why should I?"

"You shouldn't have to ask why, you bastard!"

"We're both bastards, don't forget," he reminded me slyly. I watched the water rush over him, saturating his shaggy hair, making it redder, heavier. It ran in his eyes, covering the green of them.

"What're you doing…?" I demanded again, lowering my voice with menace. "You're worthless! You're SUPPOSED to be watching to see if Aizawa or Ide make a move!"

"It's almost 4:00 in the morning," he said. "If they haven't made a move by now, then they aren't making one today."

"Oh, suddenly you're good at deduction?" He stepped closer so I shoved my forearm into his chest as a warning. "Stay away from me, damn you!"

"Make me," he said, stepping forward again and darting his hand over my shoulder to slap it against the wall behind me. The motion forced me to lean back and I felt my shoulder blades hit the tile. He was trying to pin me, the fucker!

I had absolutely no patience for this tonight, so I snarled right in his face and lashed out, punching him straight in the jaw. He was knocked sideways into the adjacent wall, grunting in pain. I moved to dash from the bathtub but his arm lunged out and caught my shoulder as I was turning. "You-" He hooked his foot around my ankle and jerked it, tripping me forward into the back wall. I hit it hard, barely catching myself with my hands, but my cheek still slammed against it. "Agh! Damn you!"

He had me pinned in an instant, his firm chest pressing into the bones of my back, holding me in that position. How had I never realized how skilled he was at evasive maneuvers? Had he trained in the years after Wammy's House, the years we were apart, just like I had? But why would he need to when he was nearly as proficient with a gun as I was? He fawned over his firearms, and I was always sure he was too lazy to be practiced with any sort of martial art. Guns were easy, and he had a natural knack for sharp shooting, probably from his video games, go figure. He couldn't possibly have learned these things just to gain a counter-measure against ME, could he?

"I know it's your nature to fight back," he said, bending so his face was in the scarred side of my neck, "but you don't have to when it's me."

"Then why do you keep dong this?" I screamed through my teeth. "When did I ever give off the impression that I wanted this? I told you it didn't mean anything! I told you I was over it!"

"You can't fool me," he stated, starting to knead his lips across the marred surface of my face and neck. "You should've kept me at arm's length from the day we met. You should have treated me as coldly and dismissively as you've treated everyone else you've ever laid eyes on. But you didn't. You tried to keep me at a distance after finding me again, but it was already too late by then. Seeing you after all that time just sealed the deal."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I snapped.

"Whatever the reason, it's just too little too late to push me away now. You said I might die soon, didn't you?" I didn't respond, remembering how I'd tried in vain to save him by getting rid of him. But he wouldn't go. Would he ever go? Why did I even care about saving him? I'd never wanted to save anyone, not even myself. "You said I might not have long to live. That's why you tried to throw me out, Mello. But I'm not going anywhere. If these are my last days…well, then, I'm doing what I want until I'm a dead man. Just work on dealing with it."

"How dare you? You just keep insisting on this insolence! Do you really think I'm going to keep tolerating it?"

"You seem to be tolerating it right now," he mentioned, his mouth still roaming the wrecked tissue on my cheek and jaw. I snarled again and he answered it with a chuckle. "No matter how much you bitch, you're still not beating the hell out of me. That punch hurt, but you could've knocked my lights out, I know you could. And you could've shot me last time, or the time before, but you didn't. You could've bashed my skull in, or broken my arm, or slit my throat-anything. But you didn't. So, what does that say about you, Mr. Genius of Deduction?"

"Damn you!" I roared. "Damn you to hell!" I was furious with him for telling the truth, for forcing me to fester in denial. I gritted my teeth and punched the wall, cringing as his mouth continued to suck and bite at my scarred flesh.

"So why'd you hafta come over here to take a shower? Are you trying to be a tease, Mello? It doesn't suit you, but it'll still drive me crazy…"

"Don't flatter yourself!" I scoffed. "The plumbing in that place didn't fucking work!"

"Oh, really?" I heard him unbuckle his belt and toss it into main bathroom chamber, before the soaked denim of his jeans chaffed against the backs of my thighs.

I cringed. "Just get it over with already, you son of a bitch," I hissed under my breath.

"I'm not letting you off that easy," he said in my ear before he nibbled it. I flinched and he laughed breathily, sliding a hand upward over my chest, tracing the tendrils of healed-over scarring, making me shudder because of how tender and sensitive it still was. He targeted it on purpose, just to grate my nerves. Damn it all, but it worked.

I hated this part of myself, this part that went weak and watery when he dared to touch me this way. I hated that I had never known this part of me existed, and so I hadn't been able to condition myself to be numb to it like I did to everything else. I could adapt to any condition, any surroundings-I'd always been able to. Why suddenly, with this, was I unable to overcome? I hated not knowing what to expect of myself. I hated it! So why was I allowing him to continue?

"It's still going to hurt, you idiot," I reminded him, wallowing in resentment as he continued to hold me there, pressed helplessly against the wall, yet knowing I wasn't struggling when I was capable.

"Yeah," he said, his firm chest and abdomen still flush with my naked back. "Don't know if I can do much about that…without lube, anyway."

"Get the fuck away from me!" I growled, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Ow!" He clutched his side and coughed. "Man, chill… It was mostly a joke."

"Mostly?" I sneered.

"Well, yeah… It's not like I exactly know what I'm doing. I mean, I'm a total god in bed…but we're both guys."

"Which is why I don't understand why you keep insisting on this."

"Why not?" I felt him argue with his jeans and then the cold zipper brushed against me. "I'm horny, and you keep letting me… I might die soon, right, so why not?"

"You're a pig," I accused.

"Eh." His hand grabbed my thigh, pulling my lower body closer to him. My hands were still pressed to the wall and now he positioned my hips the way he wanted against him, spreading my legs with his own.

I turned my head to look over my shoulder. "Matt," I warned, not knowing what exactly I was warning him of.

"Just try to relax for once," he said, not impatiently or in a huff anymore. "I'm sorry if it hurts, man. I'll do my best…" Why did he feel the need to do anything at all? Why was he pushing this on me? Why was he venturing with this endeavor? Why was he so determined? I could feel he was hard, pressuring me there, already swollen thickly with heat. "Hey, I got an idea," he said near my ear. He departed for a while, and then I felt his fingers mulling about between my thighs, slick and slippery. He prodded a little and then intruded, coating me inside out with what I assumed was soapy water. "This should do the trick. I'm pretty clever when it comes down to the wire, huh?"

"Be quiet…!"

"Okay, okay… Are you ready?"

"Just quit mouthing off and do it!"

"Whatever you say, Boss." He was inside me in the next instant, his hands tight on both my hips to make the invasion easier.

"Fuck," I gasped, gritting my teeth together. I clenched my fists hard and pounded them into the wall. The lubrication he'd utilized had been mildly successful for the entry, but nothing could alleviate the full brunt of the pain this caused.

"Sorry," he breathed, jamming his face into my neck. "I'll figure it out…eventually…"

"Maybe…if you didn't feel the need to do this…here," I said, still though my gritted teeth.

"I was trying to catch you off guard... Apparently it worked."

"Bastard…!" He pulled out and plunged back in, moving in and against me, roughly, anxiously. He grabbed my wrist, clutching it painfully tight while he continued to fuck me. His other hand still grasped at my hip, guiding his motions. It hurt like hell-and drowned me in ecstasy. His actions were rushed and amateurish, and I could easily feel that he'd torn me yet again in spite of his efforts. Then again, what experience did I have? Damn it all, this was painful and exhausting, but the sheer rapture of it beat away the rest. "I'm going to get fed up with this soon," I gasped. "I won't allow it again. I don't have the time to deal with it!"

"You got plenty of time," he argued, still moving, holding out his thrusts now to make them slower and longer, learning from his mistakes each time it seemed. "You just don't like the idea of dealing with it, so you wanna push it outta your mind." He was right. "You keep telling me to think ahead, so I am. Well, I keep telling you to relax, so get to it."

"It's not that simple," I protested, still taking his heaves, feeling the heat stifle my face. I couldn't even detect a single drop of the shower water coming down on me anymore. He was wholly absorbing my senses, and I realized the dangerous implications of that.

"That's not it," he said, starting to rub his palms up my hips and stomach, "you just don't want anything to be simple. Think about it, Mello." He leaned down and hummed against my skin. "We might not be alive much longer, right? So what would you wanna do in your last days?"

"Accomplish my mission," I growled. "That's all we should be thinking about."

"I told you, that just isn't as important to me as it is to you. I'm here because you asked me to help you, that's all. I cared about L as much as I was able, but not enough to die for him. I don't mind dying for you, though."

"You keep saying that…"

"…But you don't believe me."

"…No, I don't. Maybe I'm too selfish to understand something like that… I don't care what anyone else thinks or wants-I only care what I want."

"I know," he replied, "and that's okay. I want what you want, Mello. You want to catch Kira, so I want to catch him too."

"That doesn't explain this," I interjected.

"Sure it does. Just because you haven't said it out loud doesn't mean I can't tell."

"Can't tell what?"

"…That you want me," he said behind my ear.

My nerves flared and I saw red for a solid instant. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" I accused.

"You don't have to read so much into it," he insisted. "What man wouldn't want as many good fucks as he could get before he dies? We can't tell what's going to happen, if we're going to survive, so why not? I've been curious about it for a long time…wondering if I should dare…" He chuckled once, briefly. "I figured you'd shoot me in the face for sure…but you didn't."

I scoffed. "I still require your assistance," I mentioned under my breath.

If I didn't, would I have really killed him? I could have stopped him easily. He was skilled but I was better. I was Number Two and he was Number Three. I COULD have stopped him…but the fact remained that I didn't. Did that mean I actually DID want him to…? That wasn't possible, was it?

"Is that the only reason?" he asked, still letting his voice thrum across my fragile scar tissue.

"Yes," I barked. Was it?

"…As long as you need me, that's good enough. You can use me however you want, Mello. I'm your tool, always have been. I do whatever you want me to do, when and how you want, and by now I can tell what you want."

"You're delusional," I said, still denying any and all truth in his words. "Why would I want you?"

"Not sure," he remarked. "Probably because I'm sexy."

I scoffed loudly through my teeth. "Now I'm certain you're delusional!"

He chuckled, bending his waist and jerking his hips in such a way that drove his next thrusts deeper. I cried out, unable to help myself, and he responded by clutching at my chest. "Hey, I think I'm getting better at this. Sure sounds like it, huh?"

"Shut up," I moaned. "Just shut up and…FINISH!"

"No need to rush… I still got a ways to go."

"Damn it…!"

"You're suddenly eager."

"Go to hell!"

He responded by fucking me harder, keeping his face in my neck and his lips working their way up and down. His hands roamed along with his mouth, and one of them went between my legs, speeding my arousal out of control. I scoffed, my lungs pinching. He moved in a simultaneous sequence, splitting me with euphoric duality again and again. I swear he could sear my spine right in two with the fire he was causing in me! Soon enough it filled me past any point of return, bloating my insides-out with it, towering too tall for me to contain! I couldn't hold it back for another second and released, my back arching into him with it and my voice unleashing a vicious moan. I bit my teeth together to muffle the loudness of it, but it was too late anyway. I felt him thrust with a final show of force, grinding his fingers into my belly as he did and groaning obnoxiously in my ear. I felt his fluids dispense into me, not sparing me.

"Mmm!" he groaned. "Man, you're really tight… It's gonna drive me out of my fucking mind…"

I let a rumbling growl escape me, but I couldn't move at the moment regardless. "Jesus, Matt," I griped.

"Mmm…yeah? What's wrong?"

"I'm sick of this," I exhaled. "You're the tool, not me-that's what you said!"

"Yeah…?"

"So why am I the only one…getting used?" I couldn't catch my breath in the aftermath. As my body sluggishly cooled I could again feel the shower water pattering down on us. His heated body blocked the full brunt of the water, but much of it still hit my shoulders and hair. It was ice-cold now and made me shrink away closer to the tile.

He slid his arms all the way around my ribs, hugging me to him. Something in me recoiled at the way he held onto me-almost gently. "Oh," he piped up, "so you're saying you're not using me the way you want to? We can fix that, y'know…"

"Just let me…breathe for a while…!" I growled.

"Sure." He kissed and nibbled along my neck, massaging my chest until I gained the muscle strength to shove him away.

"Turn the water off." He departed from me and cranked off the shower, leaving me slumped against the tile wall with my lungs raging.

"Hey, you're bleeding," he observed, coming back to me and gliding his palm along my thigh. "It's pretty bad…"

I flinched and pushed him away from me again, turning around. "I know, damn it."

"I didn't know it hurt that much…" he said. "Were you bleeding the other times? I didn't notice…"

"Big surprise!" I yelled, and stepped out of the tub. I grabbed a towel, starting to dry myself, dabbing at the blood. There really was a great deal of it, enough to be an annoyance.

"Wait, there's no way it only hurt-not with all the noise you made! So, it had to be good, right? Tell me." He stepped out after me and grabbed another towel. He began to rub his hair with it.

"Ch!" I scoffed. "Fuck off! I have no interest in stroking your ego!"

"Aw, c'mon! I just wanna know this one thing!"

"Too bad!" I dried myself hastily, tossing the towel away.

He hurried to dry himself off but wasn't successful before I began to trot off and he stumbled after me, still adamant. "I already know you liked it," he insisted.

"Then you don't need to hear it from me!" I tried to grab my clothes and leave but he snatched hold of my wrist and jerked me back to him, to his lips. I gripped his chin in my hand and nudged him away roughly. "Don't you ever give it a rest?"

"Hey, I changed my mind," he said into my face, "about what I said before, about stroking my ego… I don't care about that anymore…but you can stroke something ELSE for me… How's that sound?"

I frowned intensely and grabbed hold of his neck, shaking him by it. "You think this is a joke?"

"…No."

"Then cut it out! If you're my tool then you should obey me mechanically! My commands should be followed like clockwork! Instead all I get from you are wisecracks and bitching!"

"I'm just trying to get you to lighten up," he responded, his eyes roaming over me suddenly.

"What's that look for?" I demanded.

"I got an idea."

"I find that hard to believe," I remarked.

"You're an asshole." In the next moment he grabbed me, stabbing his arm under my knees and yanking me upward off the floor. He then dropped to his knees and sprawled me across the icy tile, forcing my senses to flare out of control.

"What the FUCK, Matt?"

"We're going at it again," he told me, half-grinning. "That way you can make sure I get used the way you want, however you want. I won't do a thing unless you tell me to. Pretty good idea, right?"

I stared up at him, my eyes still wide with shock. His hair was wet and messy all over, sticking up from where he'd chaffed the towel over it. It was redder from the moisture, devoid of the ginger-orange highlights and now wholly burgundy, like good wine. Water from it still dripped down his face, framing his eyes, eyes I so rarely got even a glance of. He preferred to keep them out of sight, even since we were kids. I wasn't sure why-I had never asked nor cared to. Now as I looked, I realized the strong resemblance to L's they carried. His eyelashes were dark and rimmed with tiny lines of exhaustion. Under each eye was a prominent sunken bag, almost black-the marks of his insomnia. He hardly ever slept at night, and when he napped it was for very short intervals on and off. He was unhealthy and unheeding of that fact. His mind was always occupied with things that took precedent over sleep, just like L. Though the irises were a clover shade of green so different from the pitch-black of our mentor, his pupils were thick and absorbent from hardly ever viewing the light. Outdoors he was never, ever without his color-tinted spectacles, ever since he was seven years old. I wondered if he had ever even seen the sun with his own eyes since that time.

Whether he hid inside in the dark or behind those goggles, he preferred to hide from the world's view. He preferred to follow his own path, regardless of what others thought or how they saw him. He was a passive loner, a lethargic genius. He was so much more like L than I ever realized. Had I taken that for granted?

"Fine," I said gruffly, tweaking my stare into a vicious glare. "But I call the shots this time."

"I'm cool with that." He shrugged and winked one of those distinctive eyes of his. "Call the shots all night. I won't complain."

"Then get off of me and on your back. This time we do it at my pace."

"Yes, sir," he said obediently, and then moved off of me and flipped over to lie beside me.

"I don't fucking know why I let you get away with calling the shots three times already," I griped as I sat up and straddled him on the cold, grimy floor.

"Four," he corrected. "And probably because I'm just that good."

I scoffed. "Like hell."


	13. Chapter 12

**+Part 12+**

**November 29, 2009**

**9:45 a.m.**

I woke up reluctantly to my alarm, groggy and still deeply sore all over. I stretched my muscles, feeling each one of them protest with a sharp ache. I groaned half in annoyance and half in raw discomfort, before I realized I couldn't properly move. I opened my eyes and couldn't see anything, so I felt with my hands and realized I was pressed up against Matt on the bed. He was on his side, arms thrown haphazardly over me, forcing me to be cradled to his chest. My face was crushed up against his neck and so his pale flesh was all that occupied my vision. My arms were haphazardly flung around his waist also, and the one that was underneath him was numb and tingling. I grimaced at the fact that we were still both naked and crammed skin to skin, no space between us. I wondered in irritation how we'd ended up in this position. It sure as shit hadn't been intentional.

I tried to slip my arms away from him but he stirred and ended up clutching me tightly, like I was a fucking stuffed animal. I grinded my teeth up at his face but he just wrinkled his nose and sighed, continuing to slumber like a spoiled baby. "No... Jump...over the...spinning blades...you fucking...pussy..." he mumbled.

I went limp again and considered, debating on whether to knee him in the groin or pull some of his hair out at the roots. That's when I noticed the fresh bruise on the edge of his jawbone, clearly the mark of my knuckles from when I'd punched him in the shower. It gave me a mild sense of satisfaction, and lent me enough patience to jab him there to wake him up instead.

He groaned a little and twitched, so I jabbed the bruise again and he woke, snorting. "Damn…that hurts…" he mumbled, and then a yawn burst from his throat. He reached up a hand from my back and touched the injury, flinching. "Ow, shit," he griped. He finally blinked his eyes open and focused drowsily on me. "Mello, that you…? My face hurts…"

"Would you hurry up and get away from me?" I snapped.

"Huh?" He looked down at how we were tangled up together on the mattress and then looked back at my face. "Wow, I wonder how this happened."

I sighed shortly and shoved him by his chest. "Get moving already!"

"What for? This is pretty comfortable, actually." He put that arm back around me and slumped, and I could feel our combined weight crease the mattress downward, which forced us to stay pushed against one another. I felt him rub his face over my hair and then his breath was flowing through the strands. It made my skin leap and crawl on impulse. "Let's just go back to sleep…"

"Stop it!" I barked. "Let me go!"

"C'mon, what's the matter? You gotta be as worn out as I am-or worse. Let's just chill here for a while…"

"I don't have time for this!" I shoved his face aside. "It's almost 10:00!" I struggled my way free of his arms but he let me go anyway after a moment. I sat up and swiped my hair out of my face. "Dammit!" I shouted, as the distinct pain ricocheted upward through me. "This is your fault! What if they've already made a move? I swear to God if-!"

He sat up in a flash and grabbed me around the chest. "Hey, cool it," he said calmly. "So what if they've made a move? There isn't much you can do about it if one of those guys is with Near."

"But if they've gone and already left I need to follow them back to wherever L is waiting!"

"Yeah, but it's still early. There's no way they went to see Near and left already. Just calm down for a second… I swear you're gonna go into cardiac arrest before you're 30, Mello, especially with all that chocolate."

"Considering Kira kills with heart attacks, you may be right," I huffed.

"Shit, that's totally not what I meant."

"I know that!"

He was still hugging me around the chest, and when I didn't jerk away he leaned forward against me and rested his face on my hair. I sighed steeply, wishing that my body wasn't so fatigued from all this. I didn't want to be so drained every single time this happened, because apparently Matt wouldn't let it go. As long as I didn't outright shoot him in the head, he would continue to pursue me this way. Well, I wasn't going to shoot him, so I suppose I was going to keep allowing this. As long as he understood that he was MY utensil, MY instrument, and not the other way around, then I could tolerate it. After all, it wasn't as if it didn't feel good. If I thought of it in another light, he was just serving me loyally in a different way. He insisted on wanting to do this, and so far I hadn't been able to properly respond, but now it was time for me to reestablish my dominance. He could do this, but it would only be at my discretion, and I would use him in whichever way my whims dictated. I had been flustered this whole time, unsure of how to react or register his advances. But no more. He had no power over me-that was done for good.

My thoughts were collected now, I was together, and I knew how to proceed. I would allow this only for my own sake, for the bodily relief it offered, and the comforting removal of deep thought that it engendered. I would allow this for the release of tension, because I had plenty of fucking tension to release, and frankly I needed to take myself out of my mind now and then and just sink away into my body. If I kept brooding as desperately over what lay ahead as I had been doing, I would burn myself out. I had to accept that. In addition, every time we did this it was exhausting and terribly painful, and I wanted that to stop. I wasn't sure whether I believed his motives as he had explained them to me, but I had decided to take him at his word and ponder it no more. He didn't at all mind being a tool for my ambitions, so did the fact that he wanted to fuck me really even tip the scale that far? He was laying his life down for me to utilize however I desired, so what the hell? I would probably end up getting him killed, so why not entertain his hormonal urges? I trusted him, didn't I? Yes, I did. There was no reason to feel betrayed, no reason to feel confused. It was simple, straightforward, and that was that. This could be mutually beneficial after all, and besides that, it would just be easier not to keep up our pointless argument.

"Hey, you're not elbowing me in the ribs or slapping me in the head," he observed, scooting closer to me under the sheet. He bent a knee so he could arch his spine enough to peer over my shoulder. "You okay, Mello?"

"I'm fine," I said, trying to withhold my reflex to be ruthlessly unforgiving of his every action. I wanted to be angry-being angry would feel the most comfortable. But I had resolved to allow this, to meet it, to conquer it. If I was going to pursue something, then I would make sure it was done right. "I don't care what you do from now on, as long as you don't interfere with the case. As long as you are my unobtrusive tool in catching Kira, then I won't…" I growled. "I won't punish you needlessly for doing this."

"…Whoa, are you serious? You mean…you're not pissed at me for trying this stuff with you anymore?"

"Of course I'm still pissed!" I shouted, losing my resolve to be calm already. "I'm saying that I don't care anymore! I don't need to think so much about it, like you said. I need to take myself out of my thoughts now and then or else I'm going to self-destruct. You're a good distraction and that's how it is."

He was quiet for a solid minute and that made me nervous. "I think…you just gave me a compliment…but I'm not sure…because I don't think you've ever done that before…really."

"It wasn't a compliment," I scoffed. "It was a statement."

"Oh, as long as you say so…" I could hear the smile in his voice. "So, then, we're cool? I can do this any time?"

"No, not any time!" I'd lost my patience already. "Not if there's work to be done, and not if I fucking say you can't!"

"But any other time it's good?"

I pushed my bangs back out of my eyes, exhaling, letting myself feel his breath on my neck. "Yes, that's what I'm saying. I don't give a damn anymore, so whatever. But attempt to have a little judgment on propriety, at least, for God's sake."

"Okay, I got it. I'll do my best, man."

"Just listen to me if I tell you to fuck off from now on."

"Alright, but it might be hard not to jump your bones every time I feel like it." I growled at that, but he just kissed along my neck, raising gooseflesh. "How about you just stay in bed for a while longer? I'll go check on everything."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"C'mon, you have to be beat. I mean, my legs are sore as hell and I didn't even do any of the work the second time."

"Shut up already," I grumbled.

"No, really, your spine must be aching from how hard you were riding me on that dirty floor, and then again on this rickety bed all night." I elbowed him right in the ribs and broke free as he grunted in pain. "Ow… Should've seen that coming…"

I stood and left the room, shaking my head at what an idiot he was. I showered off quickly and dressed back in my clothes. He came into the bathroom as I was adjusting my hair in the mirror and the impulse to yell at him to give me my privacy rose swiftly, but I bit back on it. He came strolling in with an armful of his clothes and turned the shower back on without a word. I rolled my eyes and left his naked carcass in the room to shower while I returned to the surveillance video screen. It was still running, not showing any change. I checked the time and it was 20 minutes past 10:00. I wanted badly to call Halle and ask her what had been going on at the SPK, but it was too early and she wouldn't be able to tell me anything in front of her team.

Matt came back out into the den in his jeans and a green and black striped shirt, rubbing his hair with a towel. His goggles were hanging around his neck and he was already smoking. "What's up?"

"When you tailed Aizawa back to the hotel room, you watched for a while, right? Did both of them ever leave at the same time?"

"No. I only got a glance, but the place was full of surveillance and communication equipment, all up and running, and there were takeout bags and piles of drink cans everywhere. I don't think they'd left for longer than an hour or so, and I never saw both of them leave. Only Aizawa left that one time."

"They most likely have to make sure one of them is there so that when L checks in, somebody will be able to respond. If they're thinking of defecting to Near's side, they can't afford to make L suspicious."

"Yeah." He sat on the sofa next to me, letting the towel fall around his neck while he pulled on his boots. "So I guess we pretty much just wait until something happens, right?"

"Right." He nodded and slid on his gloves before he lounged back and grabbed his PSP, starting it up and playing. I rolled my eyes and propped a heel on the table, taking out the bar of chocolate from my jacket pocket and munching on it.

**November 29, 2009**

**2:47 p.m.**

"Hey, look," I said hours later as something finally happened. Matt didn't respond immediately, lost in his game, so I slapped him in the arm and he put it down and leaned forward. A Japanese man was walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, apparently heading for the phone booth.

"That's Aizawa," Matt observed. He hovered around the phone booth on our block, now and then checking his watch. "He waiting for something?"

"He must have ALREADY contacted Near," I said, watching. "He's probably waiting to find out where to go to meet him… He's close to that booth…I don't think Near would take the chance of calling a public booth, plus he's too fucking arrogant for that…so maybe Aizawa's supposed to call Near…?" I thought things through quickly. "Maybe Near gave everyone his phone number through L… That would mean he's completely open with L about his suspicions of him…"

"Why would he do that?"

"I guess he just needs proof is all, and he's letting L sweat about it. I mean, what can L really do about it? He can't move as Kira within the taskforce unless he wants to give himself away, and he doesn't know Near's face or name, so neither do any of his proxies… Kira is in an absolute rut from his position between Near and the taskforce. If this Aizawa is being controlled though, Near's plans could fall apart."

"Near must be pretty confident that he's not then, if he invited him over… If that guy does turn out to have the Shinigami Eyes, then Near is screwed."

"Yeah…but Near will definitely take precautions on that point. He probably planned for this ever since he accused L." Aizawa checked his watch again, and it was now almost 3:00. "Maybe he's supposed to call on the hour... Or maybe it's just a meeting place..."

"We'll see what happens, I guess." At about 3:00 on the dot, a sleek silver sports-sedan pulled up in front of where Aizawa was waiting and stopped. "Whoa, a Cadillac CTS," Matt remarked. "Fancy." The windows were tinted, not letting us see within, but Aizawa approached the window and began to speak, so doubtless it was one of the SPK members in that car. After a few moments, Aizawa got in the backseat and then the Cadillac drove off. "There they go."

"If only I could listen in on what he says to Near… I'll have to ask Halle later."

"Man, what if Kira really is controlling him? Maybe he wrote his name down and said that he should 'go see Near and make L sound as innocent as possible' or something. That would mess things up big-time."

"It's possible… In any case, I honestly don't think he's another Kira... He wouldn't need all that surveillance equipment you mentioned earlier if he DID have the Shinigami Eyes."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So…I'm fairly sure we don't have to worry about that part of it, anyway… The question is, how long will Near keep him there? If we move to the apartment across from the new SPK…we can keep a better eye on what's going on."

"Sounds good."

"Let's go, then." I decided to change jackets at last, seeing as it was getting colder out and I didn't really require the hood anymore. I took out a black leather jacket with white trim and moved everything into its pockets. I bit off another piece of chocolate while Matt slid on his fur-edged vest and fastened it up to his chin. He lifted his goggles up over his eyes and pocketed his PSP and cigarettes. He jammed his Beretta down the back of his jeans. I took out my dark sunglasses and slid them over my eyes, as they were wide and tall enough to cover most of my marred cheek, even without bandages. My hair served to cover a good deal of what scarring remained. "I'm driving," I stated, intending to make that perfectly clear.

"Yeah, I know," he replied with a shrug, and tossed me the keys. We left the apartment at different times, and met around back in the parking complex. He showed me to the car he'd acquired, and I didn't bother to ask how or where he'd gotten it as I unlocked it. We got inside and I adjusted the driver's seat and mirrors before I started it up and shifted it into reverse. He leaned back in the passenger's side as I pulled out and got onto the street, heading for the new SPK location. "Listen to that V8," he mentioned. "There's something about a Classic Chevy, man. Rape."

I more or less ignored him, nibbling the edge of my chocolate bar while I turned the wheel one-handed. It wasn't long before we arrived at the apartment across from the office building, parking out back. I tromped up the stairs and he followed ten minutes later. I was already checking the computer screen when he strolled over.

"No movement yet," I observed. "Near probably had Aizawa's escort drive around randomly for a while so he couldn't memorize the course… I'll also bet he's blindfolded…both so he can't see any street signs, and also just in case he might have the Eyes."

"Makes sense… Near is way too cautious to let him waltz in when he knows about the Eyes."

"We'll wait… They'll probably arrive in an hour or two. Near will keep him there for a while to milk all the info he possibly can out of him… If we don't see them leave, I can check in with Halle."

"...I sure hope she keeps telling you the truth, man. You got a lot riding on her word."

"I'm aware of that," I said bitingly. "I have no other choice. She's my only source of insider information. Without her, I have no idea what's going on with the SPK. I have to keep tabs on Near if I'm going to win."

"So far it looks like he's always one step ahead." Matt lit up a fresh cigarette. "I swear that kid is just a bundle of brain cells and nothing else."

"I know what you mean…but that's also his weakness. Being nothing but brains is a handicap in a case like this. He can't act on his own, can't get out there and participate in the hunt. He has no feelings to act on, no other sense of the situation."

"Yeah. I remember…when we were all kids… I used to pass him in his room everyday, always sitting in the middle of the floor playing by himself. He always had the best toys, but he never let anybody else touch them. No matter how much the other kids tried, he wouldn't even go out to play on cloudy days, or in the shade. I used to sit in our room with my Gameboy…but you'd always show up sooner or later and drag me outside."

"I never understood how you could stay in one place for so long, and I still don't."

"I'm lazy," he remarked. "You are the exact opposite of lazy. Can't be helped."

"It gets tiring to have to force you to get off your ass every time I need you to do something."

"Hey, I always listen. Sometimes it just takes me a minute."

"You don't always listen, and you know it," I sneered. I stared at the computer screen, watching the cars drive by. The front of the SPK building was lifeless still.

"Well, yeah, you got me there. But I listened last night when you told me to roll us over. Wasn't quite expecting you to take the reigns, but it was pretty nice."

My neck straightened and I glared at him with a hunk of chocolate in my lips. "Do you HAVE to keep bringing that up?" I hissed.

"You're not embarrassed are you? I never thought you could be, but you've been pretty sensitive lately. No big deal though. I mean, you've never been in this situation before and all…"

"Just shut up already. It's not my fault you weren't doing it right."

He chuckled. "Dude, how the hell would you know whether I was doing it right or not? You've got no idea in this situation."

"Well you don't either, so why the fuck are we talking about this?"

"…I guess you're right, man. I've never done a guy before-I just need more practice. You must be a natural though, 'cause you just flat-out straddled my crank like I was wearing a saddle..."

"Okay, damn it! Enough!"

"What? You gotta tell me how I am or I won't know what to do to make it better. Although I didn't mind you taking over last night, I'd prefer it if you let me try to improve my game. I don't much like the idea of not being totally awesome at something I try. Y'know what I mean?"

I sighed gruffly "I don't really want to talk about this right now, Matt," I growled. "I am trying to concentrate. If I miss something, then I really will kill you this time."

He sighed. "Yeah, yeah, sorry…" He plucked the cigarette from his lips and flicked the ash uncaringly on the wood flooring, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and play his game. Over an hour ticked by with nothing, and Matt went through four more cigarettes before he reached over to snuff the last one out on the dirty coffee table. "Hey, a CTS just pulled up," he mentioned. "Is that them?"

I looked at the screen. The driver's side opened and Gevanni stepped out wearing a black suit and sunglasses. "Yes, that's them. That man is Gevanni, an SPK member." He walked around and opened the back door, and Aizawa stepped out wearing an opaque visor. "I knew it…" We watched the two of them disappear into the building. "Near will definitely keep him there awhile to question him… But he did go voluntarily… He's definitely suspicious of L now, if he wasn't before. I wonder what information he'll give up."

"Now we gotta wait some more… Fail." He lit a fresh cigarette and went back to his handheld game.

**November 29, 2009**

**7:14 p.m.**

When I called Halle that night she had a good deal to tell me. She basically laid out the entire progress of Near's investigation so far to me, ending with the time and location of Mogi's and Aizawa's drop off from the SPK.

Matt and I got back in the car and drove to the drop off location, which was the airport. We made it before the designated time of 8:00, and I cruised slowly along the street behind Gevanni's Cadillac once I spotted it. It parked and I slowed and pulled into an empty space across the road, waiting and watching. Aizawa and Mogi got out of the Cadillac and it drove off, then the two Japanese men stood together and talked for a while. What were they planning? There was no way Near didn't know that Halle gave me all the information on where those two were going to be dropped off and all… That much was obvious. It had to be his way of thanking me for sending Mogi to the SPK headquarters…and also most likely it was to bait me so I would flush out further information for him. He knew that with both of our efforts combined, the "Second Kira" Halle had told me about would be easier to find, and therefore, so would the real Kira. That's where I planned to start as soon as I could.

The SPK would most likely be tailing these two, but…I might as well… It wasn't like there was anything to gain by remaining here. Watching the SPK building wouldn't get me anywhere, especially since they were also concentrating their efforts on the Second Kira… Mogi and Aizawa spoke intensely for a while, and then headed inside the airport.

"Matt, we're going to have to follow those two."

"Okay."

"I'll need to make arrangements for our weapons to be transported again and pack up our equipment, so I'll stay here and take care of that. You go ahead and tail them right now, and call me immediately if anything comes up. I'm pretty much positive they're returning to L.A. I'm sure they set up a base of operations there so they could raid my Mafia hideout. The new L must be waiting there…so he'll most likely have his proxy with him."

"Okay, I'll head after them then."

"They don't know who you are, so it should be safe for you to take the same flight as them. I could never do that because they'd recognize me, so hurry. I'll follow ASAP."

"Right." He emptied his boots of his knife, mini-screwdriver, and lock picking tools, then pulled his gun from the back of his jeans and put it all in the glove compartment. He then grabbed a laptop in its case and threw the strap over his shoulder as he got out of the car. "See ya later." He jogged across the street, vanishing into the lobby. I pulled out of the parallel parking spot and took out my phone, calling Donne Sever, the Mafia Boss who ran the illegal weapon cartel from here on the East Coast.

"Who is this?" he asked suspiciously, as this was his personal cell phone and a very privileged few knew the number.

"It's Mello," I said, doubling back and heading for Chinatown first. "I need my weapons shipped again. I can pay you for your trouble."

"Okay, Mello. Where to?"

"Back to L.A."

"Moving around a lot lately, huh?"

"Yes, I'll probably be moving often for a while, to stay under the radar."

"Good idea, brother. Well, bring your toys down to the H dock at the same wharf as before and we'll take care of it."

"I need this done ASAP, Sever-as in the next HOUR."

"Oh, damn, really? Well…I'll have to pull some strings but I think I can manage it... Consider it a personal favor for my number one associate."

"I'll be there within the hour." I hung up and returned to the Chinatown apartment, packing up all our weaponry in a duffel bag and heading for the docks. There were two guards posted discreetly around the entrance as before, and I recognized the one on the right as the guy I threatened the first time. His companion was a new face, though, and I easily figured his former partner was still critically injured from our first encounter. I could have smiled to myself if I wasn't busy. "Step aside," I dictated once I got to the entryway.

"Identify yourself," the new guy demanded cockily. I simply pulled off my shades and rolled my eyes over to my "old friend", staring him down. He grabbed his buddy's shoulder and shook his head.

"He's good, man. It's Boss M."

"This scrawny little guy is M? You're shitting me."

I grimaced at my old friend again and he gulped, shaking his head more adamantly at his fellow. "Believe me, this is him! Now shut up and step aside already!" The new guy frowned doubtfully at me, but he moved aside at his partner's behest. I walked stiffly by, brushing past them, and crossed the wharf, getting a few glances of recognition from the various lowlife crooks as I made my way to the H dock.

Sever was waiting for me there, and once he saw me approach he waved me over. "Hey, Mello. Good to see you still kicking."

"Indeed," I said, swinging the duffel bag from over my shoulder. I handed it to him and he took it.

"I've arranged an overnight flight in one of my private jets for this," he explained. "I hope that's fast enough."

"It'll do." I also took out a wad of hundred-dollar bills and gave it to him. He pocketed it. "When does the jet leave?"

"In about an hour. I'll have my boys take it there right away."

"Good. I'll be off then."

"Take care, brother."

"I will."

I returned to the apartment and packed up all the equipment again, trying to keep my patience as I stowed Matt's dozen or so gaming platforms. I was very tempted to just leave them there, but I would never hear the end of it if that happened, so I put them away one by one, along with his enormous stockpile of games and controllers and other accessories. I relished in the fact that at least this godforsaken fucking couch would never be seen by me again. Hopefully whoever moved in here next would trash and burn it as soon as they saw it. I had everything packed and bribed a shipping company to overnight it to L.A. and store it in their warehouse. When it was all taken care of, I traded in my motorcycle and the car to a Mafia associate I knew for immediate hard cash, and used some of the money to buy a ticket for the very next flight to Los Angeles, barely over an hour behind the one Matt had left on.

**November 29, 2009**

**9:47 p.m.**

I boarded, carrying my switchblade in the rubber sole of my boot like I always did on airplanes. I had a window seat this time, thank God, and no young children sat beside me. Unfortunately, the circumstances were even worse this time, as a young woman wearing hardly a thing checked her ticket and stopped before my row. She checked again and then proceeded to scoot over with her purse in hand. She dropped her ticket when it brushed the seat in front of her and giggled, bending over to pick it up. Her miniskirt hiked up with the action and I caught a glimpse of her lacey panties. I frowned and turned away, looking out the window at the workers below on the runway. I heard her sit next to me and adjust her skirt, which was composed of barely enough fabric to cover her underwear. I kept my shades on and looked to the front of the plane as more people piled in, glimpsing her cross her legs out of the corner of my eyes. With any motion she made, she flashed her slutty undergarment. I sighed silently.

"Hi," she said, leaning a little in my direction. Goddamn it, don't start a conversation with me.

"Hi," I answered back curtly, not looking at her face. She was wearing a bomber jacket over an extremely low-cut pink shirt. Her bust was substantial and hard not to notice when she flaunted it so shamelessly. She was wearing two-inch heels on her feet and charms on both ankles. She even had a toe-ring. The rest of her jewelry was gaudy and large. Her hair was honey-blonde and curly. From top to bottom she was the epitome of trashy fashion. Why did she have to be sitting next to me? I wasn't in the mood for further aggravation.

"So, heading for L.A., huh? I'm meeting some guys there to hang with until I can find a job and get my own place." She giggled. "You visiting family for the season?" I hadn't yet looked directly at her, so she hadn't yet glimpsed the damage upon my face. How long could I keep that up? If I showed her, would she be put off enough to leave me alone? Then again, I didn't want to make a very big impression when I was trying to lay low. If this girl happened to be interviewed later, she would definitely recall my description, especially with the distinctive scar upon my face. I had to be casual and keep her from getting a look at it.

"Yes, I'm going to visit someone," I answered shortly. The sign lit up that indicated for us to buckle our seatbelts, so everyone did. The seat on the other side of her was empty, so she put her purse down there. I stared out the window as the plane pulled out and took off, lifting into the air. Once everything was steady we removed our seatbelts and the girl next to me took some lip gloss from her purse and caked it on. I had hoped she was done speaking to me for good. No such luck.

"I'm Mindi," she said, as if I cared.

I pulled a random name off the top of my head. "Landon."

"Nice to meet you. I hope this flight isn't too long… Do you know how long it's supposed to be?"

"About four hours at the most." I kept my voice low and disinterested, but she was adamant about conversing for some reason.

"Damn that's loooong," she whined, slumping back in her seat and switching her crossed legs. She whipped out a shiny pink cell phone and snapped it open, then whined again. "No service! What a cheap piece of crap! What if Anton or Kris or Steph text me?"

Just then, my orange cell phone beeped twice and I took it out of my inner jacket pocket, flipping it open. "Yes?" I said into the mouthpiece.

"Hey, man, everything going okay?"

"Yes, I got everything shipped overnight and I'm on the flight right after yours."

"Epic," he replied.

"How are things going with you?" I asked.

"Fine… A and M are seated next to each other, and they've been talking the whole time." At least he was smart enough to use initials instead of blurting out the names of the men he was tailing. "They're six rows ahead of me, so I haven't been able to hear much of what they've been saying, but more than once or twice I've heard a name like Ane…or Anane…something. They're speaking in Japanese of course, making it even MORE difficult to follow..."

"Don't worry too much about it until you get off the plane. Make sure you don't lose sight of them even for a second, okay? I HAVE to know where they're going."

"Okay, I got it."

"Once you find out where they're going, stay there and wait for me. I'll call you when I land to find out the location. You call me immediately if anything comes up."

"Will do, Boss."

"Later."

"See ya." I put my phone back in my inner jacket pocket.

"Wow!" Mindi said, leaning over my armrest. "That is one HOT phone! Where'd you get it?"

"Online," I lied.

"It can even get service way up here! That's awesome!" I shrugged. "So were you talking to your girlfriend?"

"What?" I demanded, unable to stop myself. "Why would you think that?" I glared at her sideways from behind my sunglasses.

"Well, your voice got that tone to it when you were on the phone, y'know, the one boys get when they've got someone special? Your voice is different now, back to tough-guy." She giggled and pushed my arm a little. "Women's intuition. Am I right?"

"No, it was just a friend," I said through my teeth.

"Awww, that's too bad!" She squeezed my arm a little. "I'm sure it'll work out in the end! Just keep at it!" I suddenly had to the urge to withdraw my knife from my boot, but I couldn't afford to cause a panic in mid-air. If this girl would only find some other means of passing the time instead of mindlessly chattering on at me…then maybe I could survive this flight without killing her. "So you're meeting her there to visit your family? That sounds so sweet!"

"Mmhmm," I hummed, trying to tune her out as much as possible. She blabbed on and on about her party plans and the boys she was meeting and the places she was planning to shop and I wondered how in the hell I had been condemned to this egregious fate.

She paused in her brainless dialogue to stop and fix her makeup in a compact. "I just turned 18 last week," she mentioned, "and I took off out of my parents' house right then and there. That place was a prison!" She sighed happily, touching up her mascara. "So how old are you, Landon?"

"19," I answered absently, glaring out the window and hoping some miraculous force would cause her to run to the bathroom and vomit her lungs out for the rest of the flight.

"Really?" She grabbed my arm again and my patience slipped more and more away. It wouldn't have been nearly as bad if she didn't keep TOUCHING me. "Then you know what I've been dealing with! Did you ditch your parents too? I bet you live on your own from the cool way you act." I nodded briefly. "So do you room with that girl you were talking to? I bet you do, right? It sure sounded like it." Why was she so fucking certain I had been talking to a lover? "I wish I had someone close to room with. Most of the time I just have to crash at a random hotel, or on someone's couch after a party. This time though I'm crashing with my friends. We're gonna meet…"

I did my best to ignore her, and when my phone beeped again two hours later I had never been more thankful to hear the sound. "What's up?" I said, answering it in the middle of Mindi blathering on about how easy it was to get free food when you flirted a little.

"A and M went to the back to wait on the restrooms, and they were talking where they thought nobody would hear. They definitely talked about investigating L and someone named 'Amane.' There's no doubt they're suspicious of L now, and this Amane person has to be the K number 2, right?"

The Second Kira. "Hmm… Yes…that's who H said they would be concentrating on next…"

"H?" he questioned stupidly. I meant Halle, but didn't want to use specific names. I forced patience to see if he would figure it out. "Oh, right! The babe. Got it."

I sighed. "Good for you." I thought about the situation. "Alright, so they're definitely not being controlled, that much is easy to figure…" I was aware that Mindi was eavesdropping on my conversation, so I was extremely careful not to say anything distinctive, not that she had the brainpower to memorize details, but I had to be cautious. "So if they split up…it's going to be impossible to keep track of them with just you there… Damn, but there's nothing I could do. I couldn't get on the same flight as them."

"I know, man. It's okay, I can handle it. Maybe I can come up with a way to stall them at the airport."

"How?"

"I'll think of something. No worries."

"That is not the least bit comforting."

"Sorry."

"Just do what you can until I get there."

"I will." I hung up and stowed my phone again. The flight attendants pushed carts down the aisles and served everyone dinner. Mindi eagerly put her tray down and they gave us some kind of chicken with cooked vegetables. I ignored mine and took out the bar of chocolate I had in my jacket pocket, unable to go any longer without one. I didn't see any extreme harm in it. I peeled back the foil and cracked off the corner piece. Mindi was already digging into her supper like a pretty little pig.

"I'm so hungry!" she exclaimed. "I spent all my money on this plane ticket! I haven't eaten since I ditched the parents!" I bit off another chunk of my candy. "Is that all you're eating?" she wondered, leaning over my elbow. "You fatty!" She pushed my arm playfully and I clenched my teeth behind my lips, letting the sugary confection melt on my tongue to keep me calm. If she pushed me again I was going to slap her across the face. She inhaled her food like a shark with a bloody seal and then she glanced over at my untouched plastic plate. "You gonna eat that?" she asked. I shoved it over to her tray without a word and she thanked me and gobbled that down too. She must have been half-starved, but that was her reward for running away from home unprepared.

An hour and a half drudged by, and by this time Mindi had asked for a blanket and curled up in her seat to nap. It wasn't long before she was leaning her head on my shoulder to rest and I grinded my teeth together and ate my chocolate as slowly as possible to make it last. I would need it as a crutch for my irritation or else I would lose my mind. Just before we were to land, Matt called again and I answered.

"What's the matter?"

"Your flight should be here soon, right?" He was whispering for some reason, so I was instantly alert and lowered my voice.

"Yes, in less than an hour."

"Okay. Listen, I called the airport and made some false bomb threats, and then I hacked into their computer system and it looks like they've set off a code red terrorist alert. The whole place will be gridlocked for hours while the cops search everyone suspicious. I've linked up to the security cameras on my laptop so I can keep an eye on Aizawa and Mogi the whole time."

"Good thinking," I whispered. "What about you? Where are you?"

"Hiding in the bathroom right now," he answered. "I have a way to slip out, but of course there're guards everywhere."

"Good… Whatever you do, don't get caught or we're fucked."

"Yeah, man, I know… These guys are really strict though when it comes to terrorist threats ever since 9/11, so I'm gonna have to move soon. So far I've been herding them away from me by setting off various sprinkler systems all over the building or flashing suspicious-looking data streams on random computers everywhere. They won't spot me."

"Be sure they won't," I stressed.

"Hey, you're talking to the guy who robbed over ten major companies in less than two years and never even got glanced at."

"Yes, yes… I'm confident in your underhanded tactics. Just watch your back all the same."

"Gotcha. When you're getting off the plane, call me and I'll set off the fire alarms. In the confusion, get the fuck away from the guards who'll be there trying to search everybody. If you get grabbed in this mess I've caused, you'll probably get taken into custody and Aizawa and Mogi might see you."

"I was just about to ask you about that situation," I said. "Good plan. I'm almost mildly impressed."

"Whoa, seriously?"

"At least I know you've finally been listening to me and started thinking ahead."

"You're gonna make me blush, dude." He chuckled into the line.

I growled back at that. "Just stay out of sight, you idiot. I'll call when we're landed."

"Okay." I hung up, finishing off the last bit of my chocolate as the Captain came over the intercom and told us we were landing. I fastened my seat belt, in the process roughly jerking my shoulder out from under Mindi's head. She gasped and woke with a start, looking around.

"Huh? What's going on?"

"We're landing," I barked.

"Oh!" She sat up and buckled her own belt, yawning as she hastily fussed over her hair. I detested her, just like I did most people.

**November 30, 2009**

**12:18 a.m.**

Once we were on the ground, the Captain came on the speaker telling everyone that the airport was under an alert, and that nobody should panic. Everyone started to anyway, of course, chattering and gasping and so on… Mindi attempted to hold my arm in fright but I shrugged her off as we stood and were ushered out of the plane. The procedure was to leave into the custody of the on-duty police to be questioned and so forth. I reached into my inner jacket pocket as we departed the plane, speed-dialing one on my phone without removing it. I listened to it ring twice before I hung up. I kept walking, and discreetly slowed down halfway there to let the crowd converge around me and move ahead. When I could see the inner chamber of the terminal, a shrill resounding alarm blared and the people gasped and shrieked around me, turning into a frantic, confused mob.

This was my chance. I ducked down amidst the swarm of bodies, keeping my head low and darting behind the nearest counter. I peered around the opposite side, seeing the nearby officers gather around the panicking mob and try to settle them down. I took off down the nearest hallway and around a corner, pushing open a door and finding a staircase. Of course the stairs were empty during a terrorist scare, so I jogged down them and called Matt again.

"Hey, did it work?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes, so far," I answered, seeing I was passing the second floor. I looked out the sliver of a window and saw I was near the G terminal. "I'm on the second floor on the staircase beside the G terminal. Where are you?"

"I'm in the ladies' room on the second floor…the one near H terminal. Can you make it here, or do you want me to go over there?"

"How many cops are near you?"

"None right now-everybody's on the first floor, or else they're where I set off the fire alarm."

"Can we get out of here using the stairs?"

"No, but I found a service entrance that leads to the loading dock. It's past the J terminal…which is about a hundred yards from where I am."

"Then I might as well come over there."

"Alright…so you're facing the G terminal now?"

"Yeah."

"Okay when you leave the stairs, go right and find the H terminal, and I'm in the ladies' room next to the coffee shop."

"Okay." I pushed open the door a crack, checking in each direction, but the floor was deserted. I ran out and right, finding the H terminal and then glancing about for a coffee shop. I spotted it next to a book store and hurried over, seeing the restrooms in the chamber beyond. I started over but a solitary cop was wandering towards my location, looking around. "Shit," I hissed into the phone.

"What?"

"There's a fucking cop coming right at me!" I ducked into the coffee shop and crouched behind the counter.

"Damn, I didn't catch him on the monitors fast enough."

"I'm in the coffee shop," I said urgently but under my breath. "He didn't spot me, but if he finds me he'll search me-and I'm fucking armed!"

"Okay, okay… Hold on a sec."

I stayed put, not daring to move. I listened to Matt typing something manically on the other end of the line, and to the footsteps of the officer getting ever closer across the hallway tile. They tapped steadily, getting louder once they hit the linoleum floor of the coffee shop. He was just checking to be thorough, but if he decided to even glance behind the counter… I slid my switchblade out of my boot sole, prepared to kill this man if I had to. Just then, the fire alarm in the bookstore went off and he whirled on his heel and jogged away. I peered around the counter, seeing his back was turned, and slunk away in the opposite direction, hiding behind a fake tree in the connected corridor. I watched him, seeing as he pulled out his walkie-talkie and spoke to someone, I guess to report the alarm. I ran over to the ladies' room and darted inside, shutting the door silently.

Matt was sitting on the floor against the opposite wall. "Yo," he said when I turned to him.

"We need to get the fuck out of here," I hissed.

"I know. Come here and look at this." I went over and crouched down beside him, glancing at the computer screen. "Here's where we gotta get to," he said, bringing up a technical layout of the airport and pointing out a service entrance near the back side. "The elevators are down, but I can get this one up and running again, and then we just have to duck through the service entrance and onto the loading dock. Then we can circle around to the front and find somewhere to hide out, and I can call off the alert anytime."

"Okay, that should work."

"Ready whenever you are, Boss."

I went back to the door and pushed it ajar a crack, peeking out and surveying. The cop that had been there was gone. "Double-check the cameras to make sure it's clear, and then disable them." He did so and gave me the thumbs-up. "Let's go then." He closed his laptop and tucked it under his arm, flicking his ash in the sink before we ducked out and ran off to the right, down the hall and through a few deserted corridors to the elevators. Matt opened his laptop again and then typed one-handed, accessing the airport database and reactivating this particular elevator.

"It should be good to go now," he said, and I hit the down button. It took a while to run, but the doors eventually slid open and we stepped inside. He put in a code for the service floor and we stepped out. "This way," he said and we hurried through the abandoned area and out the worker exit. We were on the loading dock beneath the airplanes now, which was of course empty and motionless due to the lockdown. "Now we just have to go around." He slid his laptop back into it case and slung it around his shoulder. He smoked as we made our way across the concrete. I was eager to be away from this place.

"You disabled the outdoor security cameras too, right?"

"Yeah. I wiped all the cameras' memories in the bathroom after you got there, so we weren't recorded. There's no way we'll be caught on tape now, so don't worry about that."

"Okay." We rounded a final corner and were almost there, but a security officer was waiting just out front.

We had no chance to hide and he spotted us immediately. "Hey! What are you doing out here?" He pulled out his gun and ran in our direction.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, but Matt just grabbed me by my jacket lapels and yanked me back around the corner. There he shoved me against the wall, spat out his cigarette, and then kissed me roughly. I was so shocked I couldn't be angry right away. I pulled back. "What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded, hearing the guard run ever closer. "We need to-!"

"I got an idea," he said quickly. "Trust me." He dove back into the kiss, spearing with his tongue next and crushing me against him. I was outraged and half-panicked, but I went with it, hoping to God he knew what he was doing. The guard stepped around the corner, gun pointed inches from us, but he paused and gawked once he saw us making out against the wall. Matt suddenly reared back his arm, slapping the gun from the officer's hand. It flew across the air and hit the concrete. I pushed Matt away and punched the man hard in the jaw, forcing him a step back, and then I lunged forward and kicked him high in the side of his head with the heel of my boot. He was knocked out cold instantly and collapsed to the ground in a limp pile. "Hey, it actually worked," Matt remarked.

"What do you mean, ACTUALLY?" I demanded, shoving him. "You told me to trust you!"

"Yeah, and you did, and everything turned out okay in the end. That's the point of trust, right?"

"You are incorrigible!" I roared, wiping his saliva from my mouth. "Just help me drag him out of sight!" We bent down and grabbed an arm each, then dragged the man's unconscious body under one of the conveyor machines so anybody who happened to walk by wouldn't see it.

Next, I pulled out my switchblade and knelt down, slitting his throat in a single swift gesture. The blood pooled out thickly and gushed into a large puddle beneath his head, soaking into his shirt and hair. I couldn't afford to leave any witnesses. He had seen us alive, and if later interviewed about the disturbance, he would report our suspicious activity. He knew our faces, and could probably describe us, so he simply had to die. I cleaned the blade off on the silently dying man's pants leg and then stowed it, standing back up next to Matt.

"Now let's get out of here," I said.

He glanced down strangely at the unconscious man, still bleeding out slowly like a stuck pig. "Hey…" was his only remark.

"What? Quit fooling around and let's go!"

"…Okay."

"I'll think of a way to punish you for that little stunt later."

"Oooh, I like the sound of that," he said with a sly chuckle, his demeanor suddenly changing again. I growled at him and then we both rounded the front of the building and went across the street and into the parking complex.

"You stay here out of sight and make sure Mogi and Aizawa can't leave yet. I'll go to the storage facility and pick up the motorcycle."

"Okay."


	14. Chapter 13

**+Part 13+**

**November 30, 2009**

**11:13 a.m.**

I took a taxi to the outdoor storage building we'd rented before we left for New York and grabbed the helmet from where he'd left it on the seat of the motorbike. I started the engine and returned to the airport through a back route, finding him where I'd left him, still keeping an eye on the front of the building with his laptop out.

"Welcome back," he remarked, never pausing in his typing. "I turned off all the fire alarms, and all the security cameras are back online. Aizawa and Mogi are still patiently waiting in the front of this crowd." He pointed it out with the butt of his cigarette for me. "I think the guards figured out they're police so they're getting ready to let them go first."

"Okay, go ahead and call off the alert, and watch which exit they leave from. I'll go outside whichever one they use and wait. Once they head for the exit, come down to where I am and we'll follow them."

We stuck to the plan exactly, and Mogi and Aizawa both left calmly through the front arrival gate. We waited behind a parked car across the street until they called a taxi, and then I started the motorcycle and jerked back the kickstand. "Come on," I told him. Matt swung his leg over the seat and sat in place behind me, holding himself secure with one arm around my waist. He adjusted his laptop case strap with the other, then took the cigarette from his mouth and held it with that same hand.

"Ready," he said, and I put it into gear and let off the brake. I accelerated down the road, memorizing the license number of the taxi they were occupying and staying a safe distance behind it. They came to a stop on the curb in front of a swanky hotel and both of them got out and went inside. We stopped across the street and waited again. Matt swung his leg back over and got off the bike, standing beside it. "Certain places were getting a little cramped," he explained, jamming his hands in his vest pockets. I rolled my eyes behind my dark shades and extended the kickstand, leaning one boot on the curb and the other on the foot pedal of the bike. "Wonder if the fake L is staying at this hotel," Matt wondered out loud.

"It's possible," I said, taking out a new bar of chocolate and biting into it. He finished smoking the cigarette he had and then dropped it to the asphalt, stomping it out. We waited only about an hour before Aizawa stalked back out, apparently in a huff. His face showed annoyance, but that was insignificant to me at the moment. The point was, he was calling a taxi and Mogi wasn't with him.

"Mogi is still in the building, so it must be important." I folded the kickstand back and started the bike, putting it in gear. "Matt, you stay here. I'll tail that guy."

"Okay."

"If and when Mogi leaves, shadow him like your life depends on it-because it does, got it?" He nodded. "Call me if anything comes up." I put my helmet back on and lowered the visor, letting off the brake and accelerating after Aizawa's taxi. He traveled to another hotel complex not too far away and got out, walking inside. I parked the bike beside a café across the street and went inside, buying a newspaper and sitting at the bar in good view of the windows. I watched the front of the building in-between glancing over the paper. It was barely over an hour later before another Japanese guy strolled up and entered the building.

Another one? Is he a member of the Japanese taskforce too? If that is the case, then it is highly likely that this building had something to do with them. If this is their headquarters, then there is also a chance that the new L is here. Kira could be right across the street… I need to keep an eye on this place.

Just then, my cell phone beeped twice, vibrating my inner jacket. I lowered my newspaper and took out the device, flipping it open. "What's the matter, Matt?"

"A young woman… Well, a woman who looks like a child…lives in the room that Mogi went into."

"A woman?"

"At first sight, she looks like Mogi's girlfriend. They've gone shopping with their arms linked…" He cleared his throat once, lightly. "If you'll pardon my expression, Boss…she's an awfully cute Japanese girl. I can't tell her age, but I'm guessing it's anywhere from 14 to 20... Either way she's got a great ass."

"…I'm not in the mood if this is your idea of a joke. You can chase skirts on your own time. Are you serious, Matt?"

"Yeah, very serious. I'm looking at them right now. Here, I'll send you a picture."

I received a picture message in a few minutes. A young Japanese woman that looks like a child…out shopping with Mogi…? She had bleached hair and was very petite, and he looked pretty much mortified outside of a ladies' boutique. If I believe what Halle told me, and I don't have much choice, then that woman is the Second Kira. Or at least, USED to be the Second Kira. If we found her already, I had to confirm it as soon as possible. If she had the notebook and was the one killing in Kira's place at this time…it could be a perfect opportunity.

"Okay, I can't do anything yet, so we'll start with that girl," I said.

"Okay."

"First of all, we need to confirm whether or not that girl is the Second Kira," I said as I went back outside.

"This girl? Really?"

"Yeah, why? You think because she's got a cute face she can't be a killer?"

"No… I guess anybody can be a killer, right, Mello?"

What was he getting at? "That's right. Now, our shipment should be here by now. I'm going to rent an apartment across the street from this hotel Aizawa went into. Another Japanese man has already gone in, so I'm thinking this is their headquarters. After I get the place, I'll go pick up our equipment and I want you to come back here and set up surveillance to watch the front of the hotel."

"Okay."

"Meanwhile, I want you to keep watching Mogi and that girl like a hawk-especially the girl. Keep your eyes open for a notebook, or for her writing on anything… I doubt she will use it in public, but be cautious. Remember, there's no telling if she's got the Shinigami Eyes or not, but if Kira is using her, then it's almost certain she does. Don't let yourself be seen."

"Understood."

"We'll have to set up surveillance on that woman very soon…as soon as humanly possible…"

"I got some gear on me right now, actually," he mentioned. "It's just a pair of cheap bugs that link up to a wireless box, so it'll only pick up audio, but I could plant them in her room."

I thought about it. "…Alright, that should be sufficient. You do that as soon as you have the chance, but don't let yourself be caught going into her room. Thus far, the taskforce only knows that I'M after them. They have no idea you exist, and that gives me a very useful, very valuable edge."

"Right. I'll break in and plant it ASAP, and then I'll rent a place around here so I can listen in."

"No, Matt, I'll be listening in on the woman. You'll be spying on the taskforce HQ."

"Aww, how come?" he whined.

"Don't piss and moan at me," I growled. "BESIDES the fact that it's fucking dangerous for me to hang around the Japanese taskforce where everyone knows my fucking name-I need to hear everything that woman says so I can determine whether or not she's acting as Kira's proxy. I can't trust you to do that because you wouldn't know what to listen for, but I think you can handle watching the front of a hotel. That's a little more difficult to screw up, even for YOU."

"...Anybody ever tell you you're a bitch, Mello?"

I hissed a scoff through my teeth. "You just keep digging a deeper hole for yourself," I warned. "I still haven't punished you for your recklessness this morning."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm looking forward to it." He sighed after the remark. "I'm going to follow them around for a while, but it doesn't look like they're heading back anytime soon. She points at something in every window and drags Mogi inside. I might go ahead and plant the bugs in a few minutes."

"Be careful, like I said. You call me when you're done; I don't want to risk your phone ringing while you're hiding out."

"Got it."

"And don't loiter around in her room, either."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means, you horny bastard."

"What do you think I'm gonna do, raid her panty drawer?"

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"Fine, I see how it is. Maybe I'll just bring you a souvenir."

"Funny," I hissed. "Just get going."

"Oh, bring some headphones with you when you come."

"Alright."

"Later."

We hung up and I immediately rented one of the expensive first-class suites in the building across from the possible Japanese headquarters. It was modern, furnished, and the large windows encompassed the entire front of the apartment and were covered with steel blinds. Perfect for surveillance. After that I hailed a taxi, leaving the motorcycle in the parking complex, and returned to our personal storage building. I got in the car and started it up, then drove to the shipping company. I picked up all our cases of equipment and luggage and loaded them in the car, then drove back and carried it all up to the apartment. I unloaded my personal pair of laptops in their case as well as a set of headphones and set them in the passenger's seat of the Pontiac. I called up Sever afterward, finding out our weapons had arrived, so I swung by and picked them up also, getting Matt's call just as I was starting up the vehicle.

"Did you get it planted?" I asked.

"Yeah, they were gone for hours, so I picked the lock and slipped in no problem. I planted one in the dining/living room, and one in the bedroom. Easy money."

"Where are you now?"

"In your new abode, I guess. It's pretty shitty-the plaster's coming off the brick walls and the hardwood floors are moldy... All the curtains are torn and stained… There're a couple chairs and a table, a funky lamp…but that's about it except for a bed with a broken headboard."

I sighed. "I don't care, Matt."

"Yeah, I know, just wanted to go ahead and tell you what to expect. I got everything set up over here-the signal's strong and it's only a block over from her condo. I set you up some wireless too."

"Good. Give me the address and I'll be right over."

**November 30, 2009**

**1:07 p.m.**

I knocked five times on the door to the scummy apartment and he let me in. I had the duffel bag of weapons and my laptop case over my arm. I walked in and set them down. "So everything's ready?" I asked him.

"Yeah. You got the headphones?"

I took them out and he motioned me over to the table in the den. He hooked them up to the laptop he had sitting there next to a small device. He made some adjustments and then handed them back to me. "You should be able to hear everything now. This is set to the dining room signal." He indicated the knob on the device. "To switch it over to the bedroom frequency, just flip this. It's wired to only receive the signals from the two bugs, so there shouldn't be any interference. You can just listen through the computer's WiFi network." I nodded and kept the headphones around my neck while I removed my jacket and threw it across the other musty chair in the room. The single metal lamp was flicked on, so I sat in the armchair near it. Matt unloaded my two laptops and hooked them up, getting them online with a separate wireless account, completely untraceable. "Okay, you're all set."

"Good. Here's the address to the other place." I gave it to him. "The rest of our equipment is already there, so set up cameras to survey 24 hours a day-that means infrared and night-vision. Also make sure they record; I don't want to miss anything."

"Okay."

I dug through the duffel bag, handing him his Beretta. "I'll keep the rest of the weapons here. This place is sleazy enough to where the people won't ask questions if it comes to it." I tossed him the apartment key and he caught it.

"Got it. I'm gonna swing by and pick up some shit though. I won't survive sitting on my ass 24/7 without a couple cartons of cigs and some booze, y'know?" He started off, jamming his gun down the back of his jeans, but I got up and took a few large steps, grabbing him by the collar of his vest. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"It's time to give you your punishment."

"You gonna tie me up or just beat me into submission? Either one sounds pretty nice."

I was tempted to growl, but I held it in and stepped up to him, leaning close. I decided stringing along his horny delusions would be far crueler, and therefore more effective. I slid an arm around his shoulder and behind his neck, watching the smirk spread on his lips.

"I had something else in mind," I told him, keeping my voice low and my expression even.

"Oh, yeah?" He leaned forward, and I humored him by letting him get his lips on mine, but then I abruptly snatched a clump of his red hair in my fist and jerked him back from me, nearly making him bite his roaming tongue.

"You bastard," I scoffed, "punishment isn't meant to be ENJOYED! You're going to keep it in your pants and go back to that apartment, where you're going to glue your eyes to whoever enters or leaves that hotel! The ONLY thing you're allowed to hook up is the surveillance equipment, and I MEAN it!"

He blinked down at me. "Wait, you mean…"

"That's right! No fucking video games! I can't afford you making any stupid mistakes at this point! That's your punishment!" I kept a fist in his hair, and then moved my other hand down the front of his vest, patting the pockets. I found and took out his white PSP. "And don't think you can sneak off with this either. You're spying-and that's ALL."

He sighed deeply and hung his head a little. "Why couldn't you just strap me to the bedpost and gag me or something…? I would have ACTED like it was punishment, at least…"

"You're a freak! Now shut your flapping mouth and get out of my face!" I let go of his hair and pushed him away. "You've got work to do!"

"Am I at least allowed to eat, Your Highness?"

"As long as it doesn't require you to take your eyes off the fucking monitors."

"Your wish is my command, Your Lordship." He saluted unenthusiastically and then stomped off, slamming the door behind him.

**December 4, 2009**

**6:02 p.m.**

For days we stayed in our places, spying. For days I listened to this Misa Amane woman bitch and squeal and blather on about absolutely nothing of significance. I heard hardly any movement on the listening device unless it was her gabbing. The girl's voice was high-pitched and had grated my nerves the instant I heard it, but Mogi said little in his dour tone as usual. She talked often about all the various things she bought and how she couldn't wait to show her outfits to her beloved "Light." Light again. Yagami's son. So he really was on the Kira taskforce?

I couldn't be sure about any of my suspicions, but on the fifth day I listened for a while to the various noises of someone mulling about in the kitchen. There was a clang of dishes and the girl was complaining again. "Motchi, is it ready?" she whined.

"Yes, coming," Mogi replied. Further sounds of dishes and such.

"Motchi," she said.

"Yes?"

"It's really great that you're a good cook, and you do everything for me, but it's been five days you know? This is supposed to be a secret from Light, right? I'm beginning to feel bad that we're together 24 hours a day and not telling Light."

"Yes?"

"Even though Light loves me and trusts me, he may think I'm having an affair because I've been with you for five whole days under the same roof."

"Yes…"

My God, this stupid girl is the Second Kira? But I couldn't think of any other reason for Mogi to be with her… The SPK had said they would be focusing on the Second Kira, and they'd only said that after Aizawa left their headquarters, so it was most likely true that Aizawa had also planned to re-investigate the Second Kira. He and Mogi had gone to Amane's room together first-thing, not even reporting back to HQ, and Mogi had been keeping an eye on her ever since. That had to mean she was the one, and also that they didn't want L to know they were watching her. Amane had said her and Mogi staying together was a secret from Light, so did that mean Light was the one posing as L?

I had looked up her various websites, and found that she was a model, a successful actress, and a teen magazine star in Japan. She was very popular there, but listening to her day in and day out…it was clear that she was virtually empty-headed. How could a girl like this ever be of aid to Kira? It was true that the guy who killed her parents was killed by Kira, and she had made some statements that made her appear to be a Kira supporter…but if she really was the Second Kira, it would only be natural for her not to make any comments like that. I couldn't believe that this girl was killing people with the notebook… Not at the moment, anyway… Though, if she had the Eyes, that in itself would be enough to make her worth something to Kira… I was still confident in my assumption that Kira wasn't the type to give up half his life for any reason, not if he planned on ruling the world. I know I wouldn't, and our mentalities were rather similar with regards to methodology.

Still, for Kira to be using a girl like Misa Amane…he had to have been desperate at some point, or else cornered… Perhaps L had placed him in a difficult situation and he had no choice but to lean on a worshipper who had the Eyes? Was that how he killed L?

I took out my phone and flipped it open, speed-dialing one. It rang twice and then clicked. "Matt, how's it going for you?"

"Boring…" he answered lethargically through the line. His voice was strained halfway through his teeth, telling me he was smoking as usual. "I've seen no movement at all. So far, they've had all their food and stuff delivered, and both Aizawa and the other Japanese guy who went into the building after him, Ide, haven't come out…which makes it very likely that this is their headquarters… But it's so boring watching something that never changes…" I heard the beeping and tapping of a game system in the background despite my warning.

"What the fuck did I tell you about video games?" I said, too occupied with my current predicament to be excessively angry with him.

"C'mon, it's been five days… Besides, you said I couldn't 'hook up' any games, but you don't have to 'hook up' this handheld. I built it myself from scratch, using that PSP you trashed, three different Gameboy parts, and a broken DS."

I sighed and rubbed my eyelids. "Whatever, just pay attention to what you're SUPPOSED to be watching."

"It gets hard to pay attention when I'm staring at nothing," he complained.

"Come on, I'm doing the same thing. And if L is there, then they may think that the SPK tailed Aizawa and discovered their location, so they might decide to move. If you're not careful, they could get away, and if that happens, you're next punishment will be a lot more severe than this one was."

"Then why don't you change places with me? At least you get to eavesdrop on a cute girl."

How any mortal man could think this head splitting little moron of a girl was cute, I would never comprehend... I took a bite of chocolate and chewed it slowly. I didn't like how things were lagging. Near didn't seem to be making any moves either. Did he think that I was going to go directly to Aizawa's or Amane's place to get the notebook again…? At any rate, I shouldn't make any moves as long as Mogi is with Amane… I sighed. "I shouldn't have to remind you how important this is, Matt…"

"Yeah, yeah… I know."

"Next time your punishment will have to be far more intense, it seems, in order to make a lasting impression on your thick head."

"I'm telling you, man, a little S&M would REALLY teach me a lesson. I mean, you already got the leather and all… How about it?"

I grimaced. "You sicken me."

"Eh." He was still playing his little game as he talked.

"Just put that stupid toy away and do what you're told!"

I hung up on him and tossed my phone aside. I was rapidly losing patience. Between listening to Misa Amane blather endlessly about nonsense and Matt dryly complain about his boredom-I had nearly reached my limit of idleness. I was in this case far too deep to be satisfied with waiting. My nerves itched for action, for results, for success. Just sitting around on my ass awaiting something fruitful to happen along was close to intolerable this late in the game. Was Near counting on that? Was he just sitting there waiting calmly for me to make a move? How far ahead in the contest was he? He'd said he already knew who L was, but was that just a bluff so that he could manipulate me? It wasn't a radical idea. I needed to get ahead soon… I needed to find out more about this Light Yagami…

**December 5, 2009**

**7:23 a.m.**

Another day passed in this fashion. I spied on the woman, Misa Amane, the possible Second Kira, while Matt spied on the Japanese taskforce. We didn't see each other the entire span of this time, because neither of us took a single step away from our targets. None of the taskforce members left their headquarters, and Mogi had left Amane's room to return to his comrades, I suppose to alleviate L's suspicion. Whenever the Amane girl left her building, I followed her, watching her every step, her every move.

On December fifth, I was watching my usual hot channels on the internet, and discovered that Kira had personally chosen a new spokesperson to speak for him on the NHN, an esteemed Japanese news channel. This changed things drastically. I had been Amane's shadow, and she'd had no possible opportunity to pass on her powers-if she'd even had them to begin with. I doubted that very much as I watched the new spokeswoman for Kira, Kiyomi Takada, voice his decrees. If L/Kira was right here in L.A., and Amane was not his proxy, then his true second was still in Japan, acting on his behalf. Evidently, he was making large decisions without Kira's commands, for I knew it was virtually impossible for L here to give his proxy orders in Japan without arousing suspicion in the taskforce.

Every so often, Matt would get bored and call me, trying to pester me with various meaningless subjects. I would barely listen, and answer him shortly and ambiguously. One such call happened just after I'd made my initial deductions regarding Kira's proxy, which was perfect timing on his part. "Hey," he said, his voice especially drowsy.

"My God, you sound like hell," I remarked. "Shape up."

"C'mon, man… I haven't slept more than four hours in the last week!"

"I thought you'd be accustomed to that lifestyle by now."

"Well, yeah, when I'm awake doing things I WANNA be doing…"

"Just quit your bitching already and listen," I snapped. "This Amane woman probably isn't the Second Kira anymore."

"You finally sure?"

"Almost certainly… I'll finish up watching her today, and then say for sure."

"Well, that's good. Maybe you can take over for me after that. I swear this job is killing me."

"Not yet, but it will if you don't stop bitching about it to me as if I have sympathetic ears!"

"Okay, okay…"

"I was watching the Japanese news, and it appears as though Kira has chosen a new spokesperson after that Demegawa bastard was killed on live TV."

"I hope you have a recording of that. I'd love to see it."

I sighed and ignored him. "…So, the point I am TRYING to get across to you is that Kira's current proxy, and the person using the notebook to kill criminals, is still in Japan. Which means L isn't able to give him orders, and also that no one here has the Eyes or is using the notebook."

"That's a load off."

"Yeah…but it also makes things more complicated." I wandered off and thought things over again. Now that the person posing as Kira was acting freely and had chosen a new spokesperson…L/Kira was most likely getting restless in his helpless position. The next logical step would be to head for Japan. We would need to continue to watch these people as closely as possible so as not to miss a single move…

I was silent for so long that Matt felt the need to speak up. "…So, what're you wearing?"

"…What?"

"I asked what you were wearing."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm wearing the same things I always wear."

"Yeah, I know, I was just trying to get your attention…and maybe give my imagination a jolt."

"You're an imbecile."

"I was contemplating jerking off to your voice, but it'd work better if you joined in on your end. How's about a little phone sex? We don't even have to leave our posts to get a little action."

"I'm hanging up."

"I figured. You're no fun." I hit the end button and closed the phone, stowing it again and rubbing my throbbing temples. I was tired and exasperated and badly desired this to end, but it wouldn't any time soon, I knew. My supposedly trustworthy partner wasn't helping my mood with his ceaselessly irritating flirting and cheap innuendos. I should never have agreed to let him pursue a physical relationship, because now I would never hear the end of it. He couldn't just be subtle about the endeavor, he had to gloat and flaunt and ensure that his ego was stroked. Damn him.

**December 5, 2009**

**3:17 p.m.**

In the early afternoon, Amane left her apartment, so I threw on my jacket and shades, grabbed a fresh bar of chocolate, and left right after. I spotted her across the street, walking down the block towards the nearest shopping district. I stayed on the opposite side of the road, lost in the crowd but keeping a constant eye on her. She was walking leisurely, hands in her jacket pockets, so there was no great need to be cunning. She was wearing combat boots and baggy pants with a leather jacket and matching purse, so she was virtually impossible to lose track of, especially with her long bleached-blonde hair. I walked in sync with her from across the street, taking out my chocolate and peeling back the foil. She was doing nothing more than glancing at the clothing displayed in the shop windows.

I snapped off the corner piece of candy. Even after Mogi left Misa Amane and went back to Aizawa's place, nothing changed. The killings of criminals continued, and NHN had been receiving messages from Kira everyday… She might have been the Second Kira in the past…but she isn't anymore. Near must have told me about Mogi and Aizawa's movements through Hal hoping that I would get in direct contact with her… If what Hal told me is true, then it'd be meaningless to point a gun at somebody who didn't eat or drink for several days, and even went as far as asking them to kill her… This girl is devoted to Kira and wouldn't be swayed by intimidation.

But the name of the probable boyfriend who often came up in her conversations with Mogi… "Light"… Soichiro Yagami's son's name was Light too, and with common sense dictating, there was pretty much zero chance of there being two people named "Light" operating so closely in the same situation. Judging from Near, Mogi, and Aizawa's movements, as well as the conversations that I'd heard, Light Yagami was the present L… That was a pretty safe conclusion, so Touta Matsuda was eliminated once and for all as a suspect, and the other three taskforce members were off the hook as well. Soichiro Yagami had lied to me after all… If I took action, it shouldn't be against this girl…it should be against L… Light Yagami…

Kira.

Just then, my cell phone beeped twice. I pulled it out of my inner jacket and whipped it open, putting it to my ear. "What's up, Matt?"

"Mogi and Aizawa are outside together," he told me. "I don't know what they're talking about, but they sure do look unusually serious for people just chatting outside."

Talking outside intensely together… "Okay, keep an eye on them."

"Will do." I heard him type something quickly, and then he continued to speak through the pursing of his lips, so I figured he was smoking as was the norm for him. I swear he couldn't breathe properly unless he inhaled clouds of smoke. "So, how are things going with the cute Japanese girl?"

"I'm certain once and for all that she's not a Kira anymore, and I've decided to refocus my sights on her apparent boyfriend, Light Yagami. It's very likely that he is the current L."

"Epic," he stated. "So we actually got something to go for now."

"Yes, which means we need to stay focused."

"Right, Boss."

"...What does it look like Mogi and Aizawa are doing now?"

"…Aizawa was doing most of the talking… Now Mogi is saying something…and Aizawa looks shocked…and now he's speaking with a real serious look on his face…" He paused a moment. "Aizawa's cell phone is ringing… He answered it…and now they're heading back inside."

"Hmm…" I considered, leaning against a lamppost as Amane walked into a shoe shop and browsed. "If only I knew what they were talking about…"

"I could maybe read their lips, I think…but they're speaking Japanese so I can really only get names from the video..."

"Good, what were the names in order?"

He typed something. "Let me replay the recording real quick…and put it on slow motion…" He took a drag and then exhaled. "Okay…'Amane,' 'Kira'…then Mogi said 'Light,' 'L,' and then something like…'Uzaki' maybe…and something like 'ee-omi Akada'…then 'Amane' again…and then Aizawa said that 'Mogi didn't have to tell Ide about it'; I could tell because he got all serious and talked a little slower."

"Good, Matt… Anything else?"

"When he was looking all serious, he mentioned 'Light,' and then something about 'Amane' and 'girlfriend'…and then a concluding thought involving 'Kira.' His phone rang and he said it was 'Light.' He listened for a minute, and then said 'they'd come back…' and then they left."

"Excellent… I think I can make something out of this… When did you learn to read lips, Matt?"

"It's not that hard," he mentioned. "I could've given you the whole conversation if they'd been speaking English."

I sighed. "Unbelievable," I remarked. "As long as you manage to make yourself useful." I reviewed what he'd said, having memorized it. "So they were talking about Amane and Kira, and considering Mogi returned to HQ, they've probably determined as I have that Amane is no longer acting as Kira. Mogi talked about Light, and then L… So he was reminiscing about something he or L said to each other regarding Light? I don't know about this Uzaki, but 'Iomi Akada' must be Kiyomi Takada, Kira's new spokesperson. Somehow she and Light are involved…and the real L must have known about it… Perhaps Amane and Light were involved back when L was alive… If my theory checks out, it may be partially her fault that L died…"

"Because she had the Shinigami Eyes, right?"

"Right. There is no possible way L would have given away his real name, even though he showed himself to Kira. He probably figured the original Kira needed a face and name, because he hadn't made the Eye Deal...but then this other Kira appeared…and L had no way of knowing about the Shinigami Eyes. He knew he was taking a risk when he came out in the open."

"…So she got rid of her powers and some new Kira is out there… You think he's got the Eyes too?"

"Most likely… With the rate at which he's killing criminals…" I went over the conversation again in my head. "Light and Amane and girlfriend… That's obvious enough…and so is Kira… Just in case, I want you to check up on Kiyomi Takada of the NHN as much as possible."

"Got it."

"While you're at it, find out as much as you can about Light Yagami."

"Okay, Mello. I'm on it."

"But don't get distracted from your top priority-keeping an eye on the taskforce members. I can't lose sight of them, understand?"

"Yup. You just get back to spying on hot chicks as usual, you lucky jerk."

"…How could you possibly find this brainless twit of a girl attractive? You have poorer taste in women than I gave you credit for."

"Uh…I said she was hot, not that she was smart," he remarked. "And if I were you I wouldn't be so quick to tell me that."

"Why?"

"Because…" He exhaled. "Just because, that's all."

Why did I even care what he was talking about? "If you're so desperate to stare at women, why don't you just download some porn like any normal jackass your age?"

"Hey…that's not a bad idea…"

I scoffed and hung up on him, stowing the phone just as Amane strolled out of the shoe store with a shopping bag. She skipped on down the sidewalk so I resumed my pursuit, glad to finally have a direction again.

After a few more hours spent in a few more boutiques, Amane received a call on her cell phone. She looked at the number and then her whole face brightened before she squealed in the middle of the walkway and answered it. I could hear her shout, "Light!" excitedly even from my distance. A call from Light… Right after the call she returned home and remained there for two hours or so, and then came back out in a different outfit and hailed a taxi. I went to grab my motorcycle immediately and drove after her, wondering where she was heading in such a hurry, although I had a good hunch.

I turned out to be correct as her taxi pulled up in front of the airport. She grabbed only a single small carry-on and her purse, and then had the driver unload all her large suitcases from the trunk and pile them up. He rolled them inside for her and she waved at him and then pushed the load herself. I had to be sure, so I hurried inside after her, following her at a safe distance. She checked her watch and then pulled some papers from her purse and checked those. She looked around and then continued to push her luggage. I saw her stop outside the gate bound for Tokyo. Exactly as I anticipated. Misa Amane was going back to Japan…

As she pushed her luggage, she stopped as she noticed someone, shouting at them and then shoving her luggage with a final heave and collapsing in exhaustion. Mogi…? She's meeting up with Mogi! What the hell is he doing here? I didn't receive any calls from Matt…! He was SUPPOSED to be keeping an eye on them…!

I snatched my phone and flipped it open, speed-dialing one. "What are you doing, Matt?" I demanded before he could answer. "Mogi's at LAX!" He was carrying all the luggage by himself now, and Amane was complaining loudly about something to him as they walked to the gate.

"Damn, they got me!" Matt exclaimed. "They must have paid the food delivery guy who came yesterday and used his truck to move out along with all their equipment. I questioned the usual delivery guy after he came out counting a wad of money, but the room was already empty… He couldn't even tell me how many of them there were. I had the camera rolling on all the exits and windows, but they used the truck's door to block the view…! Shit…!"

"Goddamn it, Matt…! That's why I told you to keep your eyes open…!"

"Yeah, I know… I was just about to call you when I got back here. Sorry, Mello…"

I sighed, most definitely irritated, but there was nothing I could do about it now, and so there was no point in brooding over it. "Never mind it right now," I barked lightly. I followed Mogi and Amane as they made their way inside the boarding gate, keeping out of sight as much as possible. I could have afforded to wait if only Misa Amane was going to Japan, since she was no longer a Kira and so was no threat to my investigation…but now that Mogi was going, and the rest of the taskforce had already gone, I had no choice but to follow. I couldn't lose track of them, no matter what. "Matt, I'm going to tail Mogi to Japan. Follow me right away."

"Huh, Japan…? Seriously…?"

"Yes! We can't let them get away from us! If I let them go ahead to Japan, it'll take forever to track them down! I don't have the time for that!"

"You're taking the same flight? But they might see you, Mello…"

"Yes, I know that, but it's not likely. Mogi will have his hands full with Amane's nonstop bitching and whining. I'll lay low, so don't worry about it. Just get to Tokyo as fast as you can and we'll keep in contact."

"Okay, I got it, Boss. Watch yourself."

"I will. Later."

I hung up and paid a hefty price for a last-minute ticket, then boarded amongst a crowd of noisy tourists to help hide myself. I saw Mogi struggling with Amane's carry-ons in the opposite aisle, doing his best to ignore her constant barrage of criticism, so I slipped by as fast as I could and found my seat, which was in the very back in the center, the least desired place. Perfect. I wouldn't likely be spotted all the way back here. Now all there was to do was sit and wait until the plane landed in Tokyo, and then I could rearrange my plans from there.


	15. Chapter 14

**+Part 14+**

**December 5, 2009**

**6:43 p.m.**

I was wedged between a morbidly obese Caucasian man on my right and two Japanese businessmen on my left. They chattered on and off on their cell phones about various stocks and deals, and the obese man just listened to music and snacked. I had kept a constant burning eye on Mogi, and he hadn't even been able to stand up and stretch his legs due to Misa Amane's ceaseless usurping of his attention. He was by the window and she was next to him, with an older woman on the aisle. Since I was of slight height and couldn't be seen over the seats, they wouldn't be able to spot me unless they walked back here to look. I would have to be careful once Mogi made a move for the restroom.

I was already three hours into the flight when Matt called. I answered it, not wanting to speak lest Mogi hear and recognize my voice. I couldn't take even the slightest chance, so I just murmured, "Hm?"

"If you can't talk just acknowledge again."

"Mm." He hung up. Smart of him. A minute later I got a text from him saying: "Got luggage & equip shipped. Dunno what to do about heat." Heat? Of course, our weapons. Shit, I had forgotten about transporting our guns. I'd been too distracted by occupying the same flight as Mogi, who knew my face and name. I texted him back with a message that said: "Don't worry about it now. I'll call back when I can." He replied with: "Ok."

Three more hours dragged by and I remained motionless and perfectly alert. Everyone else around me had drifted off to sleep, asking for pillows and blankets. I only shook my head at the stewardess. Once I was certain Mogi and Amane were asleep, I got up and went to the restroom, ducking inside and calling Matt.

"Hey, dude," he said with a yawn. "Was just waiting for you to call back."

"You need to contact the Mafia weapons cartel I have connections with to get our guns transported."

"The Mafia? Are you shitting me, man?"

"No, I'm not. Now listen, I'm going to give you the number of their Boss, who goes by the name Donne Sever. You tell him you're an associate of Boss M and you need his weapons transported to Japan ASAP."

"What if he doesn't believe me?"

"I'll call him first to confirm it, of course, and then call you back. I'll validate you."

"Okay, if you say so."

"I'll call right back." I hung up and dialed Sever's number.

"Hello?"

"Sever, it's Mello."

"Already? You must be getting yourself into some tight spots lately."

"So it would seem. Listen, I think this'll be the last time I'll need my weapons transported for a while. In a few minutes, my associate is going to call this number and arrange the drop-off. I vouch for him, so ensure his safety."

"I don't know, Mello… I'd rather you didn't pass out this number."

"I'm not just passing it out. This associate is my right hand, and I trust him with my life." I'd said that automatically, and meant it, and that fact brought me to a pause. Was Matt really that vital to my operations? Could I have really gotten anywhere in this case without him? Just how much of my success did I owe to him? I shook my head. This wasn't the time.

"You're sure then?" Sever asked.

"Yes, positive."

"…Alright, what's his name?"

Instantly I said, "Myron. Ashton Myron."

"Okay, brother. I might have him call you and confirm verbally to be extra cautious once he gets here. You know I can't have anything leak out or Kira will nail me for sure."

"Fine, that's no problem. I'll answer."

"Alright, brother. I'll get it taken care of."

I called Matt back. "Everything's set up. Here's Sever's number…" I gave it to him. "Just tell him you're M's associate and need the same stockpile of weapons transported to Japan, preferably Tokyo, ASAP."

"Got it."

"And by the way, your name is Myron."

"WHAT? MYRON? What the fuck kinda name is THAT?"

"I pulled it off the top of my head, okay?"

"MYRON…? Fuck."

"Yes, Ashton Myron! Do me a favor and don't forget your own alias!"

"I won't, I won't. How about I go by Ash? Sounds sexy."

I snarled. "Just get the job done. Text me when you make it to the drop-off point so I can be somewhere private when you call."

"Okay, Boss. Later." I pocketed the phone and returned to my seat silently, doing my best not to disturb any of the sleeping passengers around me. I sat still, looking straight ahead, and ate through a bar of chocolate by letting it melt in my mouth piece by piece.

It was another two hours of snores and moans and quiet shuffling before my phone vibrated. I opened it, looking at the text from Matt: "At drop off. About 2 go 2 gate." I slipped out of my seat and returned to the restroom, waiting only ten minutes before he called.

"Hey, Boss, I'm here with Sever but he wants confirmation."

"Okay, give him the phone."

A brief silence and then, "Mello, you there?"

"It's me, Sever. You can trust him."

"Okay. Sorry, brother, but a man can never be too careful with Kira on the loose."

"I hear you. Just get everything taken care of for me so I can take care of Kira and put him out of all our misery."

"I will, no problem. That's the biggest return a man like me could get for all these favors, and as a businessman I can't thank you enough."

"Okay. You've done well for me, Sever. That's a lot more than I can say for most of my connections."

"No problem, Mello. Just remember me when you make it big, huh?"

"I will." I hung up.

I sighed. Damn this. My weariness of this tedious case was interfering with my resolve. My determination never faded, only my optimism. Nothing ever seemed to advance. Everything just seemed to stay at a consistently slow forward march. Even now, even when I knew who Kira was, I had no way to get to him. I didn't just want to kill Kira-I wanted to make sure Near knew who crushed him, so that the little twerp would be forced to admit who was the best. After that, I would take how many notebooks there were left in the world for myself and use them however I saw fit. Quite possibly, I would turn Kira's regime in my own direction, maybe take it over for myself. Yes, that would be the ideal outcome.

Worst case scenario: I would reach Kira first, kill him, and then vanish without acknowledgement. Of course, I would fight for it not to end up that way. My highest priority was stomping Near under my boots-and that would be meaningless if no one knew who did the stomping. Beating Near once and for all and winning our game had been my goal for almost as long as I could remember. The priority immediately following that was personal revenge, for L and for my scarred body and bruised ego. I would never be satisfied until Kira paid for his transgressions against me, preferably with his death at my hands. Lastly, I desired power-power like only Kira could wield. The power to rule the world as I saw fit, to mold it into the shape I desired, to do whatever, whenever. Yes, ultimate power utilized at my discretion. I would never be underestimated or overlooked again. The world would bow to me, to Number One.

But, the more this case dragged on without substantial progress, the more my edginess multiplied. Even as my patience was a thousand times more refined than Matt's, it couldn't come close to Near's. His genius was on an entirely separate area from mine, and that was just fine with me. I did what I needed to do to get things done my way. I couldn't calmly lay things out like a puzzle before me and wait for the pattern to take shape. It wasn't my style, or my nature. I had to take action and produce physical results. I had to test my hunches and see things got moving. I bullied and used people to get what I needed, and didn't give a damn whose lives I ruined or ended in the process. L had operated with both qualities-the calm and the action-and that was why neither me nor Near could ever match up to him. No matter how much either of us could aspire or train ourselves, it just wasn't possible.

Somehow, in choosing his heirs, L had split himself right down the center. Apart, we could never measure up. But working together was out of the question. He disagreed with my cruel methods and looked down on me for letting my emotions run the show, while I detested him for his arrogance and dismissed him for his childish tendency to assume rather than confirm. We were brothers, but we were pieces from two separate puzzles-we just didn't fit together.

Of course, Matt was different from either of us. He wasn't as smart or as quick-witted, but he had inherited L's manner of silent deduction. L thought better in seclusion, and would rather speak to other human beings only through a screen or a telephone line. He preferred to work alone, and he was most efficient when doing so. Rarely did he request assistance, but he was always willing to get his own hands dirty and see that the job was done. He was obstinate, dismissive of authority, and very private. In those ways, Matt was like him. I had always thought that Matt matched L better in personality rather than brilliance, and perhaps that was part of the reason L had picked him out of all the smartest children. Back when we'd first met L through the computer screen, Matt's single, uncaring, insubordinate question had thrown him in L's favor. Near and I thought more alike, to a certain extent, and so we kept our mouths shut and listened intently. That had gotten us both picked. After that, L had arranged sessions with the three of us whenever he could and developed our skills further, discovering our strengths and weaknesses and unraveling the very cores of who we were in attempt to choose who would succeed his legacy.

I think only the four of us really understood each other, as much as that was humanly possible, anyway. We all had looked up to L, and he had given us as much respect and dignity as an eccentric prodigy COULD give kid-shaped copies of himself. I don't think he ever really cared for us, not in any sense of affection, but there had been a connection there, a connection that me, Near, and Matt had never before known. We'd attached ourselves to that single connection and held on, and once it was severed by Kira, there was nothing left to tie me and Matt to that place, or our own humanity. We were alone now, both in our own way, with no intention of looking back. The future was all that was left to us. But Near still clung to that godlike image of L that he could never reach, and I knew it would be his handicap for the rest of his life. If he did become the new L of the world, he would spend all his remaining days lost in the real L's shadow. He was just too immature to advance in the ways he needed. I knew I was too impetuous to advance as high as I could, but I had no problems with the way I operated.

What Near can't understand is: there is no such thing as a true copy of L. That goal is unattainable. There was one man from Wammy's House who had tried and miserably failed, but L had only told me about him, not Near or Matt. I think L sensed that I was the only one out of three who knew what to do with the story of B, one of L's fellow first-generation geniuses. To Matt it would be just a story, to Near a case file to add to L's repertoire, but to me...it was a lesson. And so it was my firm belief that even L himself had thought that way-that trying vainly to duplicate himself was not only futile, but wrong. I'd always had a feeling that L simply went along with the system of Wammy's House out of sheer respect for those who took him in, and not out of personal preference. L knew no one could become him-nor did he WANT them to. L understood best the fate of the one in his position, and had no real wish to pass such a legacy onto another person. He had seen himself what could happen.

I was beginning to think that L had put off choosing his heir on purpose… He took on the Kira case and showed his face for the first time. He went in knowing he was likely to die. He should have chosen an heir the moment he resolved to reveal himself. But he ignored the necessity and went on with his mission. The more I contemplated it, the more I was certain that L had every intention of ending his reign once and for all, and the most efficient, yet most inconspicuous way of doing that was to simply overlook it in a time of dire crisis. With his death, he had left the world without another L, and I was sure now that that was what he had wanted, if only to spare another soul the heavy burden of his position.

Of course, without L the world was doomed regardless of whether Kira was taken down or not. Near was unaware of this, but I wasn't. So I resolved to guide its fall into corruption with my own will, and rule over the orderly chaos thereafter with an iron fist. That would be the surest way to keep control in a decaying society. I would make it known that I existed, but that I was an entirely different entity than Kira. And no one would stand in my way. I smiled at that thought and then returned to my seat.

Matt texted me again an hour later saying he'd boarded his flight, and I told him I would call him once I landed and look for an apartment like always. There was a couple times where Mogi or Amane would wander back to the bathroom, and I used a newspaper to cover my face when they passed. This was cutting it way too close, uncomfortably so, but if Mogi saw me he would wait until we landed to take me into custody so as not to cause a panic. I could figure a way out of it, perhaps take them hostage to gain leverage over the taskforce... Of course I didn't want to lose my element of surprise-it was the only edge I had over them. I would prefer to stay unknown. As long as Amane continued to complain and chatter nonstop, I would be fine.

**December 6, 2009**

**11:40 a.m.**

When we landed, I lingered in the back as long as possible to give Mogi and Amane plenty of time to exit. I left the plane pretty much last, leaving the airport immediately by bypassing luggage pickup and stepping out into Tokyo. It was bright and bustling, and I knew I would stand out, being Caucasian and blonde, so I had to find a place to lay low soon. First things first, I had to find out where Mogi and Amane were heading.

I lingered across the street from the Narita Airport exit, shades over my eyes and collar flipped high to conceal the bottom half of my face. My hair was a great deal longer and jagged, absent of my preferred styling, and considerably darker, even, due to the stress and singeing most likely. There was more gold in the blonde than there'd been before. So maybe I was being a bit too cautious in fear of Mogi spotting me. After all, if he'd been one of the men who busted into the Mafia hideout in East L.A., he'd only caught a glimpse of my eyes, narrow behind the fiberglass visor of the gas mask. Maybe he'd seen the length of my hair in the dark, the build of my body, but not much more. Was I overreacting? Possibly, but I couldn't be careful enough. Just the mere fact that I was a white man in black leather made me stand out in the middle of Tokyo. It was always better to be safe than sorry.

It was only about 30 minutes later before Mogi and Amane stepped out, he once again carting all her luggage, save her purse and messenger bag. She excitedly hailed a taxi and they piled in. I hailed my own and told the driver where to go, keeping my eyes on Mogi's taxi and following it without making that fact obvious to the driver. I kept my distance, seeing where they stopped and parking down the block, then doubling back across the street and watching. It was a large hotel, very classy, and they were just now going in. The taxi driver waited, I assume for Amane since she wouldn't be living with the taskforce. This had to be their headquarters, but I would need to make sure.

I rented a room in the hotel across the street and planted myself at the window facing their probable HQ. I waited, and it took Amane one hour to leave, alone. Should I tail her? No, she was no longer a target. She wasn't Kira's proxy anymore, and was most likely returning to her own home. The place to watch was here. Of course, I would need to acquire a more permanent residence further away, in a more discreet location. I could wait to do that when Matt got here.

I called him, and he said it would still be over ten hours before he landed. "The luggage and equipment will be there in a day or so on your end," he told me over the sounds of his portable game. "I went ahead and got rid of the vehicles too, so I guess we'll have to get some new toys."

"Alright. I tailed Mogi back to a hotel and he hasn't left yet, so I'm going to keep watch over it under the assumption that it's their headquarters. We'll look for another place where we can lay low once you get here."

"Okay."

"You can at least speak and read SOME Japanese, can't you?"

"I'm a little rusty on the reading, but Japanese is pretty much the only foreign language I bothered to remember..."

"And why is that, you lazy bastard?"

"Are you kidding? Video game capital of the world, man. Not to mention they're the titans of robotics and digital technology. I'm gonna enjoy this assignment, for sure."

"This isn't playtime," I reminded him with a sigh.

"I know, but you've got to let me go to the Sony show floor at least once, dude. You can play the newest games there months before they're released, and on the biggest fucking HD screens ever."

"Will you keep your head in THIS game for once? Unlike your little digital fantasies, this is a matter of life and death! My pride, along with L's, are at stake! At least PRETEND like you can focus!"

"Okay, I got it… Sorry."

"I'm going to be spying on the taskforce for a while to see if they make any moves or alter their location. Just call me when you get here."

"Will do. Watch your back, okay?"

"I'll be fine." I hung up.

I kept a constant watch on the place, ordering the hotel's room service and finally eating a halfway decent meal for the first time in days. I took a chair to the window and sat by it, watching the front of the building through the edge, doing my best not to lean too far inside the curtain. I turned on the television, switching it to the NHN news channel, the one led by Kira's new spokesperson. At six o' clock she made a statement and I listened while I stared out the window.

"Good evening, this is News 6 and I'm Kiyomi Takada. All the messages from Kira I have conveyed to you in the past as well as everything I will tell you in the future will become the law of this world…" This woman was in direct contact with Kira's proxy, I was relatively sure of that…but the real Kira had no opportunity to do so under the taskforce's watchful eyes. Kira would no doubt be getting restless, sitting over there unable to make a move, unable to communicate with the holder of the notebook. He would try something soon, it was only a matter of waiting and watching. The Takada woman continued. "Apart from those whose existence itself is considered evil…people with an ability who do not use that ability for the good of society will also not be tolerated."

I smirked. How perfectly tyrannical of Kira's proxy. This seemed a bit premature, however. I knew Kira, and I knew he was meticulous, and patient. He intended to lean the world towards worshipping him gradually, so as not to scare anyone into opposing him. A good strategy. This new proxy of his was a bit too eager… A bit too clever for his own good, perhaps? The remainder of the announcement was similar, nothing interesting, nothing I hadn't already heard, and so I just continued to watch the front of the hotel across the street, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

**December 6, 2009**

**8:02 p.m.**

That very evening, at about 8:00, the taskforce member Aizawa left the building, followed by a much younger, well-groomed Japanese man. He couldn't have been much older than twenty, with oddly light-colored brown hair and a handsome countenance that was strangely lined with…with what I could tell was menace. I could recognize the cold reptilian gleam in his eyes as easily as I recognized it in the mirror.

The way he carried himself, the way he strolled smoothly but with purpose, the way his face was calmly focused but with his mouth ever on edge, and even the way he watched his companion…like a kid looking through a magnifying glass at an ant... I could tell as if he were wearing a neon sign above his head to advertise it, and probably only because I'm the very same.

This young man is a killer.

Like me.

His image sparked something else in my brain as well, something far more logical. I'd seen him before, somewhere. It was sheer common sense to assume who he was, recalling the information Matt had hacked at my order. I'd seen only one small photograph, the one on the police roster, and memorized what little there was to his profile. This man was Yagami's son, Light. The current L.

Kira.

I was laying eyes on him, at last. For the first time, I could put a face on my adversary. Finally, I could place an image with the name of my enemy. It was only partially satisfying, as I now had to find out where these two were going. I ran downstairs and watched from afar, seeing them pack a few metal cases in a car. Light-who I could now see the resemblance to Yagami in-was dressed rather nicely for a routine police matter. He wore a trim black suit and silk tie with polished oxfords. I wasn't sure that was relevant, but I noted it before I hailed a taxi and followed them at a safe distance.

They drove to another classy hotel, and they both got out, unloaded their gear, and went in. It was quiet then for about an hour, and then a procession of black cars drove up and stopped in front. Several men in suits stepped out of the first vehicle and looked around the building, then stood guard on the entryway. That first car left and the second pulled up, and more large men in suits, as well as a couple large women, stepped out, followed by a rather petite Japanese woman in sunglasses and a designer jacket. It was hard to tell for sure, but I easily figured that with this many bodyguards, the woman had to be Kiyomi Takada, the NHN newscaster. Kira's spokesperson.

What was she doing here at the same hotel as Kira? Could they possibly be having a meeting in order to plot their next moves? But no, impossible. Aizawa had come too. I had to remember that Kira's power was not in his hands at the moment, but someone else's. Kira's proxy had chosen this woman, not him.

So, was it safe to assume that the real Kira, Light Yagami, intended to use this woman to his advantage? But how? He couldn't possibly have the connections to gain a personal audience with her. She was too highly protected by Kira worshippers to ever get taken in by the cops. So, then…it was for some other reason? Takada was roughly the same age as Light… Could they possibly have already been acquainted? Again, impossible, but there they were, in the same hotel. Of course, it COULD be a colossal coincidence altogether. What if they weren't seeing each other at all? I would need confirmation, and soon.

I watched the front of the hotel from the restaurant across the street. I ordered tea, keeping my jacket collar flipped so the pesky waitress couldn't get a look at my scars. Takada left the hotel about an hour later, her face rather odd-almost gleeful, stupidly so. What the hell had gone on? She and her entourage drove off and Light left the building about thirty minutes later with Aizawa, carrying the loads of equipment back to their waiting car. Out of Aizawa's sight, I saw the younger man's face crease into a giddy sneer. A killer, no doubt about it.

I returned to the hotel across from the NPA Headquarters, taking my post in the chair next to the window. There was no activity for hours, no one on the taskforce came or went. Amane must have gone home to her own place for the night…

When my phone rang, I startled awake. Shit, I was asleep? "Fuck," I spat, before I flipped it open and answered it. "What?" I demanded.

"Good morning to you too," Matt remarked.

"Morning?"

"Yeah… It's been like hours since I talked to you, dude."

"Shit!" I hissed.

"What's wrong?"

I checked the time, and it was after 5:49 a.m. I'd been asleep for nearly eight hours! What a pathetic blunder!

"Uh… So, I was just calling to tell you we'll be landing in like an hour…"

"Fine. I'll get a bike and pick you up, then we can plan from there."

"Got it." He didn't hang up. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You sound like hell, Mello…"

"Don't fucking say my name over the phone in public!" I barked, my short fuse sparked by his lazy, semi-inquisitive voice.

"Right, sorry. It's just that you sound really beat. You should take it easy."

"What are you, my babysitter? Just get here."

"I don't have the power to make the plane fly any faster, man. I wish you'd just take a rest for a change before you burn yourself out-AGAIN."

The connotations of his wording didn't at all help my mood. "Is that supposed to be FUNNY?" I demanded.

"Kinda," he replied. "Actually, I was just hoping you'd get some rest because I plan to rail you for hours straight once I get there."

I dropped my forehead into my hand, twisting my fingers into my bangs. "I'm not even slightly in the mood for your horny bullshit right now."

"Ah, you never are." He sighed. "I am seriously horny though."

"I hope the people sitting around you are enjoying this."

"Everyone's asleep." He yawned. "It's a good idea."

"Look, I'll see you when you get here. Call me then."

"Okay." I hung up and threw the phone onto the bed, exasperated.

**December 7, 2009**

**6:17 a.m.**

After memorizing a few possibilities for living quarters in the guides, I stole the fastest motorbike I could find right away, put on the helmet that'd been left on the seat, and then drove to the airport. I waited in the parking garage for his call, and once he arrived he made his way over to me, sauntering sluggishly, as if we weren't in some kind of goddamn hurry. By the time he walked up to my bike, I was exhausted with frustration and just shook my head when he waved. He already had a cigarette burning in his lips.

"Hey, you mind if I smoke this before we go?"

"Yes, I do. Get on now."

"Fine, fine." He took a last, deep drag and then flicked the cig away and swung his leg over the seat, settling behind me.

"The taskforce is settled back in their headquarters, so I'll look for a place nearby, but not too close."

"Got it, Boss."

I dropped Matt off at the hotel and then rode to the first complex I'd looked at. I browsed a few within a two-mile radius, settling for an old condo this time. It was on the second floor near a sleazy hotel and a dilapidated Laundromat, with a couple lots behind it good for storing vehicles. It was just outside downtown, but it would do to stay hidden yet still close enough to move quickly if something arose. The former owner had either moved in a hurry or else he got evicted, I assumed, since he left a ton of shit there. He was apparently some sort of creep too, because the back room facing the alley was filled with boxes of naked female mannequins missing limbs. There was also plenty of aged furniture strewn about that we could make use of. It's not like luxury was my concern.

"I found a place," I told Matt when he answered his phone.

"Cool," he replied. "No activity over here, except what's going on in my stomach."

"Save your complaints for later," I told him.

"What later? You can't get much later than this," he stated through an obnoxious yawn. I checked the time really quick. It was already 7:00 a.m.

"Okay, I'll head back and take over so you can get some sleep."

"Thanks, Mello," he mumbled. "Hey, could you get me some food on the way back too?"

I grinded my teeth a second. "I'm not your delivery boy."

"Oh come on, I'm starving…and it's not like I can leave this spot anyway…"

I sighed shortly. He was right, although I didn't like his dishing out orders. "Fine, I'll get you something." I hung up on him before he could babble out a ridiculous list of the putrid junk foods he wanted. I stopped by a 24-hour grocery shop and picked him up a couple bowls of instant noodle soup and some soft drinks. I grabbed a couple chocolate bars for myself also, just the first random brand I saw. I returned to the hotel and knocked five times, glancing at the peephole since he knew to check every time. He let me in and I shoved the bag of groceries at his chest.

"Thanks," he said as he took it.

He went into the kitchen with it as I returned to the window, glancing out. Silent. Motionless. Just the way I'd left it. I sighed, trying to remember that the normal man's workday didn't start for another hour or more, and we were probably the only two souls awake for miles. I sank into the nearest soft chair and finally unclenched my muscles a bit, exhaling. I looked at the nearest bed, seeing his vest, gloves, wallet, and messenger bag flung across it. He already had a laptop open on the coffee table, and it was plugged into the outlet next to my chair. I took off my sunglasses and slid out of my jacket, then peeled off half the wrapper of my chocolate and sank my teeth into it, breaking off a large hunk and chewing gratefully.

He was mulling about in the kitchen all the while, tearing open the ramen package and filling it with water from the tap before he jammed it in the microwave. He popped open one of the glass soft drink bottles and chugged it before he leaned his arm on the wall beside the machine and slumped, waiting for it to finish impatiently. When it was done, he brought it over and plopped himself on the couch in front of his laptop. He tore off the paper cover and steam billowed out from the Styrofoam bowl. He broke the wooden chopsticks that came with it in half and immediately scooped a thick wad of noodles into his maw.

As he slurped them noisily from his lap with one hand, he used his other to peck around on the computer. What was I thinking buying him food that he could be that noisy with? I must've had a lapse in my usually harsh judgment. He didn't even glance at me until the bowl was empty, but I could barely tell anyway from behind his tinted lenses.

"Something up, Mello?"

"No, just thinking," I answered mechanically. I was on the last chunk of my chocolate.

He drank some more soda. "About what?"

"…You know that new NHN Newscaster, the one who was announced to be Kira's spokesperson now that Demegawa is dead?"

"The hot Japanese chick with the nice rack that you emailed me about," he affirmed. "What about her?"

"Well, just after I landed, I watched Aizawa and Yagami's son, Light, go into a hotel downtown. Less than an hour later, that NHN woman went into the same hotel. They left within an hour of each other."

"You think they're in cahoots now?"

"Yes, I think it's likely. Kira must be trying to manipulate his new proxy through that woman. After all, he can't make a move while within the NPA, or else his colleagues will notice, which leaves him a very difficult bind. Unlike with Amane, he can't communicate with this new proxy. I bet he's on edge." I ripped open another bar of chocolate. It was too sweet, and not nearly as rich as my preferred brand, but it was helping me focus nonetheless.

"So he figures he'll even the odds by getting in league with the NHN chick?"

"Yes, but that means he must have some connection to her. How likely is it that he could just call up a complete stranger, a celebrity no less, and arrange for a secret meeting? It has to be more than police business, especially if they meet unofficially at a hotel."

"Yeah. So he thinks he can talk to his new Kira Junior through Kira's spokeswoman?"

"That's what I think. What I need is a way to corner Kira so I can expose him and grab all the glory."

"But you've seen him, right? You've finally gotten this close."

"I know, and it's irritating. I'd love to just ambush him in the alley across the street and put a bullet in his head, but that would be a complete waste of all my work. I need to trap him with hard evidence, and I need to do it before Near does. After he's proven guilty, then I can kill him and take however many notebooks he has left for myself. Then Near will have to admit I'm Number One and give up chasing after L's position." I grinned crookedly and snapped off another piece of chocolate. "Then I can do whatever I please with the notebooks."

"I hope I get to see the look on Near's face," Matt mentioned as he finished off his soda and then shut his laptop, leaving all his trash lying about. He stood and went over to the bed, pitching his belongings off of it onto the sofa before he kicked off his boots. "Maybe I can even get it on tape." He chuckled. "Bet you'd like to have that as a keepsake." I watched him remove his goggles and then pull his shirt over his head, wriggling out of it. He tossed that on the sofa as well, placing his goggles and cell phone on the nightstand. "You need me for anything else, Boss?"

"No. Get some sleep or you'll be useless."

He pushed back the comforter and sheets, arranging the pillows before he glanced back over his shoulder. "You know, I might have just enough energy left for a quickie," he told me, as if I would be interested.

"Matt, I'm not going to tell you again."

"Yeah, I thought I'd give it a shot anyway." He crawled into the bed and lay down. "Wake me up when you need me," he muttered, and in only a few minutes he was gone.


	16. Chapter 15

**+Part 15+**

**Dec 7, 2009**

**8:03 p.m.**

By the time 8:00 p.m. rolled around again that night, Light Yagami and Aizawa packed their car with the same equipment as the night before, no doubt heading for a hotel in which to meet Takada. I'd let Matt sleep all this time while he could, just in case he wouldn't get the chance later, but now was the time to move even closer to Kira. If I could figure out what his plans for his proxy were…

I walked up to the bed and shook Matt by the shoulder. He groaned and rolled over, so I pulled his hair until he woke up. He squinted his drowsy eyes up at me with a yawn as I threw on my jacket. "What?" he mumbled.

"Get up. I need you to keep watch over the taskforce headquarters while I tail Light and Aizawa. I think they're off to another meeting with the NHN woman."

"Okay…" He sat up and stretched, managing to crawl out of bed and flop down in the chair by the window as I headed out the door.

I ran downstairs and hopped on my bike, following their car again to the same swanky hotel. They took about a half hour before Aizawa exited alone and drove back the way he came, just like before. The situation seemed to be the same. Was the taskforce taking the time to bug the room beforehand? Why would they take such meticulous measures…unless… Was it possible they were finally, actively suspicious of Light? After my fiasco with Mogi and Near, they would have to be brain-dead not to start investigating him. This could be promising and yet troubling at the same time. If the taskforce uncovered Kira first…they would steal my victory. But if they could manage to pressure Kira into a corner, he might slip up and give me an opportunity.

Around 9:00, Takada's black cars pulled up and she got out of one and went into the hotel. Her bodyguards awaited her out front. She didn't exit again until about two hours later, much longer than their first meeting. She looked positively giddy, as if she were walking on air. Even her mood surpassed that of the previous meeting. Her black cars drove off and Light exited, strolling off down the block and calling someone on his cell phone. I watched him until he climbed into a cab.

I headed back to our hotel and found Matt on the chair by the window, slurping from another bowl of noodles. He still hadn't dressed, so he was lounging shirtless with his bare feet on the ottoman.

"Hey," he said when I walked over. "Aizawa came back not too long after you left…and just now he took off again."

"He went to take down all the equipment at the hotel," I explained, grabbing another bar of chocolate. "Light takes a cab home. His meeting with that woman lasted twice as long as the last one… And before she arrived, Light and Aizawa were in the room for about 30 minutes with metal cases of equipment. I think they were setting up surveillance."

"He set up surveillance to spy on HIMSELF?"

"I think his own taskforce finally suspects him," I said. "They must if they need to watch his private meeting with a woman… They don't trust him to be alone with Kira's spokesperson."

"Maybe they're not as big of n00bs as we thought," Matt theorized between noodles. "Maybe they're smart enough to get the creeps from that guy. Looks like your plan worked."

"Yes, just as I hoped… Now let's hope they're smart enough, but not TOO smart."

**December 8, 2009**

**9:09 a.m.**

The next day there was zero movement at their headquarters, and I knew I wouldn't be able to get any information from following them back and forth from Light's meetings with Takada. There was no possible way for me to gather any useful evidence from the hotels, if there was any at all, and I couldn't approach the woman this soon. I was stuck again, even after all the valuable information I'd gathered to this point.

I decided we could finally move to the apartment I'd rented and get everything set up. I still had to go pick up our weapons and equipment, ditch the stolen motorcycle, and buy new vehicles. I also had living expenses to consider. All the small details just made me more frustrated at being unable to move. Matt did nothing to quell my constant state of frustration as he played games on his PSP every available second his hands were free. I told him to acquire us a car while I went to buy a motorcycle, since finding us cars was one of the few assignments he actually enjoyed-which shut him up for a while.

I purchased my usual black motorbike built for speed and drove it to the new apartment after checking out of the hotel. I parked it in the lot behind the building and called him to check his progress. It went to voicemail so I figured he was busy. I still had to wait another half-hour before I heard him sputtering and chugging into the lot. I looked out the window to see him pull up in the rusted remains of an American Muscle Car. I growled behind my teeth and went outside to meet him as he parked and got out of the car, flicking the ash from his cigarette. He leaned against the door as I walked up, seeming very proud of himself, like a kid who just got an "A" on his report.

"So what do you think?" he asked.

"I think it's a hunk of junk," I snarled. "I thought I told you to get something in good shape."

"Hunk of junk?" he demanded, throwing his arms up. "Do you know what this IS?"

"A rusty old car."

"THIS-" he said, indicating the vehicle with a wide sweep of his arms, "is a 1969 Chevrolet SS Camaro!" He waited for me to have an awe-inspired reaction, but it never happened. Instead I frowned harder. "Jesus, Mello," he grumbled. "It's only like, the hottest car ever! And it runs great." He popped the hood and motioned me over. I peered inside. "Engine is just about new since the guy never drove it, except back and forth to car shows. Hardly has any miles on it even, and it shifts smooth. It just LOOKS old because the guy had to leave it out in his rusty garage for the past 20-some years. Got a great deal."

"As long as it won't break down in the street," I remarked, still not impressed.

"Man, you should be the first to know you can't judge something by the way it looks," he muttered.

That was true, but I didn't like it. "Well now that you have the car, we need to go pick up our luggage."

He slammed the hood and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Can I drive?"

"No."

"C'mon, Mello, you don't even know what year the car is."

"Just give me the keys," I sighed.

"Fine," he said in a semi-pouting voice. "You need to learn your Classics, dude."

"I don't care, Matt." I got in the driver's seat and he slumped into the passenger's. He rolled the window down so he could light up another cigarette as I started the car. It choked and whined before it roared to life, shooting clouds of black from the exhaust pipes. I glared over at him from above my sunglasses and he just shrugged. I shook my head, pushed my shades back up, and put it in gear. I pulled out of the lot and headed to the company where our luggage was delivered. I had Matt load all the aluminum cases and boxes as well as our suitcases into the trunk and backseat, and then I dialed Sever's number.

"Hey, brother."

"Has the drop been made?" I asked.

"Sure has. Took a little longer than I thought it would, but it got there sometime early this morning. Didn't get a chance to call you… I've got a lot on my plate right now, man… A few of my people's names got leaked onto the internet and they dropped dead, right in front of me! I've had to relocate and go on hiatus."

Kira's proxy certainly was eager. "That's probably for the best. Kira's killing of criminals has only increased lately, so staying active isn't a good idea."

"Think I'll be retiring to my island bungalow for a while, you feel me, brother?"

"Yeah. Where do I pick up my weapons?" He gave me the location just outside Tokyo at a private airstrip. I pulled out onto the street and we headed there. Thankfully, I had no trouble with the guards this time, as both of them avoided looking at me and stood especially straight when I passed. I grabbed the large duffel bag full of our guns and explosives and hauled it back to the car, setting it on the floor in the backseat. I headed onto the interstate, looking for an exit that would loop around and lead us back into the city as the sun was setting.

When I saw the flashing red and blue lights, I foolishly hoped they weren't meant for us, but to no avail. I looked in the rear view mirror, and the police car was definitely tailing us, sirens wailing.

"Shit!" I hissed loudly.

Matt didn't look up from his PSP when he said, "What?"

"Cops!" I barked.

He looked over his shoulder out the back of the car. "Fuck."

I pulled over on the side of the road reluctantly, trying to work out some kind of plan from thin air. "I wasn't speeding, so it must be this suspicious fucking car!" I growled at him. "We can't be seen, Matt!" The police car parked on the shoulder behind us. I bared my teeth and watched the officer step out of his vehicle and turn on a flashlight. "Damn, that's it then." I reached hurriedly into the back, extracting my pistol from the duffel bag. "I'm going to have to kill him," I said.

"Whoa," Matt blurted, tossing his game system in the backseat and leaning over. "Wait, Mello."

"There's no time to wait. He's coming." I flicked off the safety and yanked back the slide between my legs, watching the officer encroach closer and closer in the side mirror.

Matt's hand was suddenly snatching my wrist. I tried to jerk away in outrage but he wouldn't let go. "Back off, Matt!"

"You don't have to kill him, for fuck's sake," he protested. I looked seriously over at him, unable to see his eyes in the dark. Every time the bulbs on the cop car spun, a flash of light reflected off his goggles.

"What the hell other choice do I have? Don't interfere, Matt!"

"Would you hold on?" he insisted. "Things'll only be worse if you gun down a cop in the street, Mello! You'll just bring attention to yourself, and then Near and Kira will really be on high alert!"

"If he sees me-!"

"He won't," he urged. "Switch places with me."

"What?"

"Just do it. Trust me." I stared at him for a full second. "You have to. If he sees ME, no big deal. Just switch places and keep your head down."

"You better know what you're doing," I snarled, and I flicked the safety back on my gun and stashed it again. I unclipped my seatbelt and moved up onto my hands and knees, shuffling positions across the front of the car as he did. We met in the middle as I crawled over his lap, seeing him smirk briefly as I had to straddle him to trade our spots. I snarled again as I sat down in the passenger's seat and he sat in the driver's. He jammed down the cigarette lighter and then buckled his seatbelt. I did the same, flipping up my jacket collar and leaning against the door, trying my best to keep my face out of sight.

As I watched, Matt slid a cigarette out of the pack from his pocket, adjusting it in his lips, and then popped out the lighter and lit the end. He puffed it just as the officer approached the window and tapped on it. Matt blew a cloud of billowing smoke, and then he held the cigarette in his other hand as he rolled down the window and leaned his elbow on the door.

"How are you doing tonight?" the cop asked.

"Not bad, how about you?" he replied, in shockingly good Japanese.

"I'm good. Do you know why I pulled you over, son?"

"Might've been going a little fast," he replied coolly.

"Actually, I'd like you to step out of the car a minute, if you don't mind." He glanced deeper inside the car at me. I kept my face as much out of sight of possible. "Your friend too. Step out of the car, please."

Shit! Kira had partial control over the police, so he probably had them on the lookout for suspicious non-Japanese, especially if they fit my description. If he saw me, we were so fucked! I wasn't too worried while in the dark interior of the car, but if I had to step outside, if he got a look at my face…!

"No problem," Matt replied, and rolled the window back up. He dug his MP3 player out of his pocket and plugged it into the stereo before he turned the key, starting the engine. The officer pounded on the window, yelling frantically, but Matt flipped through his playlists rapidly until he hit select and blaring industrial rock crashed out of the speakers. He cranked up the volume while blowing a cloud of smoke and then shifted into first gear and let off the clutch as he hit the gas, peeling out onto the road and taking off.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded.

"Getting away," he answered, shifting up to second, and then third. He sped through traffic, braking to squeeze between cars, and changing lanes like a maniac with barely any room to spare. He gunned it faster and faster, the speedometer continuing to climb as his synthesized music continued to screech from the speakers.

"You're out of your mind!" I roared, gripping my seatbelt. I heard the sirens behind us soon enough. "THIS isn't bringing attention to us?" I roared. "We'll have every goddamn cop in Tokyo after us!"

"They'll have to catch us first," he remarked with a grin, and shifted up again, ramming his foot down on the gas and going over 120 miles per hour, darting between cars and narrowly dodging trucks.

"Fucking shit!" I gasped, and jammed myself deep into my seat, gripping the door hard. "Never mind Kira-YOU'RE going to get us killed!"

"Relax," he remarked. He looked over and noticed a road sign. "Here goes," he mentioned.

"What?" I demanded. "What are you doing?" He downshifted as he braked abruptly, jerking me forward in my seatbelt. He downshifted again as he slipped in front of an 18-wheeler in the far right lane, causing the driver to slam on his own brakes and honk. Matt maintained a steady speed there for a while as the cop eventually caught up, getting closer and closer. "What are you doing now? He's gaining."

"Would you relax already?" He puffed more smoke. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you, really?"

"I said to trust me."

He kept an eye on the rear view mirror as the cop pulled up alongside us, pressing us to pull over. I stared at Matt, waiting for some miracle of brilliance. An exit came up on the right, closing, and just when we'd passed it, Matt gunned the motor and jerked the wheel hard to the right, cutting through the caution lines and tearing through grass to barely make the exit. The car lurched up over the edge of the road, tossing us in our seats. The cop car was boxed in the by the 18-wheeler that'd been tailgating us, so he couldn't copy the maneuver without slamming on his brakes and causing a major pileup.

Matt snickered as he sped off down the exit ramp, doubling back and heading the long way around to go in the opposite direction. "So, that was a good alternative to shooting him in the face, right?" he commented when we were cruising through the dark streets back into town.

"It was sheer luck we didn't crash and burn," I growled angrily.

"Give me a little credit," he remarked.

"For what?"

"I knew that exit was coming up," he said. "It's the very last exit that leads back into town. That cop will have to drive for miles to find another way back, and by then we'll be long gone."

"But now he has the tag number and make of this car," I pointed out. "We'll stand out like fucking lepers in town!"

"Nah," he said with a shrug, and rolled the window down a crack so he could tap off the ash of his cigarette. "I can just forge new plates, and actually, I meant to overhaul this car from the beginning."

I blinked over at him. "Are you telling me you actually PLANNED ahead for this?"

"Sound a little more shocked," he grumbled through his cigarette.

I sneered, not liking the fact that he had just impressed me with something other than computer hacking. His driving was freakishly skilled, and he'd come up with a successful plan of escape when we'd been trapped, and he'd done it almost instantly-when I hadn't. His brain really did operate on a different wavelength than mine. Cornered this way, my plan hadn't evolved past murder, but Matt had considered the options in terms of the car and the road and his driving abilities. He continued to prove himself.

"Well, it better look like a completely different fucking car," I snarled finally.

"Oh, just wait and see. When I'm done with this baby…it might be TOO hot."

I rubbed my eyelids with my gloves fingers. "I should've just killed him and been done with it, then I wouldn't have to listen to you."

He blew his last cloud of smoke and then tossed the butt out the window, rolling it up. He turned down the volume a little, enough for us to speak normally. "How many people have you killed, Mello?" he asked.

I looked over at him, my brow tightening. "Why?"

He shrugged, keeping his face pointed forward towards the road. "Just curious."

"…You mean how many was I personally responsible for, or how many did I actually physically kill?"

"…Physically, I guess," he said after a minute.

"Six," I answered. "A Mafia snitch who got me the information I needed to join, the rival mob boss I tracked down to get initiated, his two bodyguards he had at the time, another Mafia member who got in my way, and that guard at the airport."

"And how many have you been responsible for?"

"Why the sudden interest in this?"

"If you don't wanna answer the fucking question, you don't have to," he said, rather sharply. He seemed suddenly bothered, even more than he'd been in the high-speed car chase.

I pondered briefly. "More than forty," I answered. "If you count all the Mafia members Kira killed that night the Japanese taskforce stormed the base. They died because Kira was after me, but I had rigged the explosives in advance, planning to kill them anyway once my plan was finished. Of course, I've ordered the deaths of numerous underlings, as well as most of the SPK. The late U.S. president killed himself under pressure from me, and Director Takimura was killed by Kira so I couldn't use him." I took out a bar of chocolate from my pocket and unwrapped it. "And then…Yagami," I said lastly. "I didn't want to kill him, but he left me no choice, and he ended up dead. Of course, that doesn't include all the people I've tortured who survived it."

"How does it feel, Mello?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" I snapped off the corner piece of my candy and chewed it.

"How does it feel to kill someone?"

I scoffed. "What do you care?"

"I just do, okay?"

I bit off another hunk of chocolate. "It feels good," I answered, completely unable to understand why I was telling him any of this. "It gives you a sense of lofty power, to know you've altered a person's entire existence by your own hand, in an instant. It's a completely different power than Kira, who can kill without ever being near the victim, or smelling the blood, or watching their eyes glaze over. There's a sense of clarity in that moment you hold a life in your hands, a split second when you realize…you've accepted your descent to Hell." I cracked off another large piece, eating it slowly. "It's almost comforting to know where you're heading, so you can devote more thought to how you're getting there. It keeps me focused on my goals, and keeps me aware that I'm in this by my own hands, and I'm not going down easily. I'll do whatever it takes."

"That's all?"

"What the hell are you getting at?" I demanded. "Have you suddenly gone soft on me, Matt? You knew what you were getting into before you agreed to help me. I never told you this was going to be a picnic."

"I know," he said. "I just… Fuck, whatever. Forget it." He cranked the music back up and lit another cigarette, rolling the window back down so he could blow smoke. I glared at him in the dark for a while, puzzled, before I leaned against the door and finished off my chocolate.

**December 9, 2009**

**12:37 p.m.**

It was an unusually hot day for December-freakishly hot in fact-with the sun beating down in a sadistic heat wave. It was so hot, so suddenly, that it felt almost suffocating, and I could hardly believe winter was practically here. The only development so far today was a TV announcement that Misa Amane would be having a comeback performance on a New Year's Eve celebrity singing show, and that was irrelevant to my case or me.

I had been out all morning running menial errands to keep myself busy, an unusual task for me, but I had left Matt to take care of things at our Japanese apartment, namely cleaning and setting up our computer equipment and network and things like that. Since he never bought proper food or living supplies when I had him do the shopping, I just went myself for once.

When I finally got back with all the supplies, I peeled off my leather jacket, leaving a skin of sweat behind, and threw it onto the nearest chair. I opened a bar of chocolate, bit off a piece, and stood in the kitchen wondering why the hell he wasn't in the apartment. The computers and other equipment were set up as far as I could tell, all the machinery humming and cords tangled everywhere and the television blaring, but he was nowhere to be found. Even every single one of his game systems were stacked on various crates, their cords slung in piles all over the place. There was some anime playing loudly on the TV and the microwave door was hanging open. There were the remnants of an instant noodle bowl and the plastic it was wrapped in on the counter.

I sighed irritably and took out my phone, speed dialing one. It took him five whole rings to pick up. "Unn…what?" he asked, almost in annoyance.

"Where the fuck are you? I gave you a job to do."

"What? I finished that forever ago, man…" He was mumbling, barely audibly. Evidently something was distracting him. "It doesn't take me long to set up, y'know…?" There was suddenly a metallic rattling close in the background.

"Yes, but you were supposed to be keeping an eye on things. Did you forget we need to remain incognito? You can't go running around without communicating with me!"

"I'm not running around…" he mumbled.

"So where are you right now?" I waited but he didn't answer. "Matt!"

"Huh…? Oh. I'm right outside in the lot…"

His voice wandered again and I heard more metallic rattling. He said nothing more so I frowned and hung up. I put my sunglasses back on before I left the apartment and went back downstairs, out through the rear entrance, and across the yard to the abandoned lot where we parked the vehicles. I figured if he was ignoring me and not playing those blasted video games, then he was screwing around with the car. I was right. At least he was doing SOMETHING I'd told him to do, just not WHEN I told him to do it.

I stepped over the ragged patches of weeds and busted concrete to find he'd bought and set up a simple aluminum garage to store the vehicles in. I walked over, finding his boots jutting out from beneath the now-red Camaro. The dingy rusted color it had been was replaced with a shiny, striking red, like the skin of a ripe apple. All the chrome was polished to a blinding shine, and the hood was now adorned with an ornate scoop that had large rivets holding it on. The vehicle looked brand new. I heard the metal of a wrench working against something in the undercarriage. A box of tools was open beside the car door, some of them greasy and scattered on a piece of cardboard. He had a blowtorch and a safety visor hanging on a hook, and a small generator for using the power tools, I surmised.

I sighed again and then kicked the heel of his boot. His legs jerked with a start and I heard a distinct CLUNK before he exclaimed, "Ow!"

"You're useless!" I barked, nearly exasperated by him already.

"Fuck…" he grumbled. "I finished what you told me to do and then I was bored so I decided to keep working on this. You SAID to make it look like a whole new car…"

I folded my arms over my chest, taking another bite of my already melting chocolate. "I'm certain I said to make it INCONSPICUOUS, not even FLASHIER than it was before!"

"You wanna have a sweet ride, right?" he continued, and then paused, chuckling for a second. "Well, I guess you already have a sweet ride with me, huh?" He chuckled some more so I growled and kicked him in the foot again.

"Jackass!" I bellowed. "What other pointless primping are you doing to this contraption now then? You look like you should be finished already."

"For your information, it needed an oil change," he told me, still from underneath the vehicle. "I painted it last night while you were brooding over Kira. Like the color?"

"It would be better in black," I remarked.

"Thought you'd say that." I heard more metallic rattling. "The last two cars I got were black, but a Camaro this hot should be red, so it's red. I also washed and waxed it while you were out today buying tampons, Princess." I kicked him straight in the shin this time, where his boots wouldn't protect him. "Shit, ow!"

"I hope to God you are smoking near the gas tank!"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I am a LITTLE smarter than that."

"Too bad. You at least forged a permit for this building, didn't you?"

"No, I'm completely retarded," he muttered sarcastically. I huffed and waited, tapping my foot.

I listened to the final movements of the wrench, and then I could hear the old oil pour out and hit what I guess was a bucket. Matt started to scoot out from underneath the car and I backed up to give him room, seeing he'd been sprawled on one of those rolling carts. When he finally crawled out from beneath the vehicle completely, I saw that he was shirtless and slick with sweat. He had smudges of grease all over him, especially his hands, and the running perspiration just made the stains gleam. He stood and shoved the two wrenches he had in his left back pocket, pulling a rag from the right one and rubbing his hands on it. When he turned to me finally, I saw there were black smears from his abs to his chest, and some even all the way up on his chin as well. It must have been cooler under the shade of the car, because in moments his goggles were fogged from his own body heat. He tugged them down around his neck and shook out his damp wine-fire hair before he mopped his brow.

"Whew, man, it's hot as fuck for some reason," he sighed. "So, what's up?"

I was shocked to find myself momentarily brought to a pause by his appearance. What stupidity was this? Just because we had…? Why should that force me to notice how he looked when I never cared before? I eyed him briefly, realized what I was doing, and poured the harshness back into my face.

"…I was thinking that we should concentrate on the NHN newscaster woman for now. She's in direct contact with Kira's proxy, who's acting in the name of Kira's will, and she'll be the easiest target. If we can get to her, then maybe we can stop the killings and drag Kira out in the open…since we can't just approach him directly."

"Sounds like a plan," he remarked, reaching into the open window of the car and removing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I could see his shirt, vest, and gloves were strewn across the backseat. He lit up a cancer-stick and puffed it, blowing smoke. "So how we gonna get to her?" I took out the map I'd gotten from a local gas station and unfolded it, starting to spread it on the hood of the car. "Whoa, watch it, Mello!" he said, suddenly having the energy to move quickly. "I just waxed!"

I sneered at him and slapped the paper down especially hard, pointing out the NHN building. "This is where she films for the news," I said, and then I pointed at the street out front. "I'm thinking you'll drive straight up here in the car and shoot off some smoke bombs to distract her bodyguards when she walks out, and then you'll take off down this street and around to escape." I pointed it out as I spoke. "They'll think you're an anti-Kira terrorist just trying to cause trouble, so they'll definitely chase after you. In the confusion and the smoke, I'll kidnap her and ditch the guards, then take her to a secluded place and pull information out of her."

He strolled around the front of the car and leaned over my shoulder, peering at the map. "So I'm the decoy then?" He reached around my arm and chest, intentionally getting too close, and pointed out the street with his grease-smudged finger. "So I shoot off the smoke bombs here when she gets out of her car to head for the building, and then burn rubber down this way?" He left a black stain on the cheap paper when he took his hand away.

My nose wrinkled at the scent of him. Not only did he stink of motor oil and grease, but he was dripping with sweat and smoking right in my face. I swiped the cigarette from his lips. "How many times do I have to tell you not to fucking smoke in my face?" I hurled the end down on the car hood and snuffed it angrily.

He gasped painfully. "Jesus Christ-my fucking paint job!" he hollered. He plucked the cig off and folded the rag from his pocket so the clean side was showing, then wiped the ash off carefully. "I'm gonna have to wax this all over again!" he whined.

I lunged out and grabbed his chin in my hand, jerking his face back in my direction. "Forget this hunk of metal for one second and pay attention, damn you!"

"Okay, okay, I'm paying attention."

"Good. Now, I know this is difficult for you, but TRY to retain this vital information." I yanked his chin forward and down, indicating another street with my free hand and keeping his head pointed in the proper direction. "I'll take the NHN woman and lead some of her bodyguards this way, in the opposite direction from you. After I'm in heavy traffic I'll ditch the guards by going down this alley. I plan to take the bike and they'll have cars, so it'll be easier to lose them. Of course, I still have to figure out when the best time would be to do this, and what questions to ask… Also, I'd have to take Kira precautions…" I gathered my thoughts a moment. "Meanwhile, the full brunt of her bodyguards will be going after you, since you attacked her. The bodyguards following me will probably contact yours once they realize I've kidnapped her, and so they'll want you for questioning, no doubt. You can't let them capture you, no matter what. If Kira gets his hands on you…"

"I got it covered. No sweat." I finally let go of his chin, halfway forgetting I'd still had a hold of it, but he stayed that close, throwing me a sideways glance. "So I got a few minutes to let that oil drain," he mentioned. "Wanna go for a quick fuck in the backseat?"

I glared at him with my teeth bared. "Are you insane?"

"C'mon, it's always been a fantasy of mine to fuck around in a Camaro…" he explained, still close to pressing against me. "A little making out, at least…"

"You've lost your mind!" I roared, shoving him away by his face. "You smell like a roasted pig in a car wreck!"

"You mean it doesn't turn you on?" he remarked, sliding his greasy hand over my lower back and nudging me against him. My arm came in contact with the wet droplets of sweat on his chest "I saw the way you were looking at me before." I glared more fiercely at that. "Ah…see? We've already done the deed a couple times, so why can't you just admit you think I look good?"

"Because that's bullshit!" I pulled away but he tried to keep me close. "You still look as awkward and dim-witted as you always did! Nothing's changed!"

"Aw, c'mon, you don't mean that. I catch you looking at me all the time." Liar! That's impossible. "Sure, I used to look nerdy but we've both grown up. Hell, you used to look like a creepy little farm girl, but now…" He nudged me still closer until our noses touched. "I got no problem admitting that you get me going. You like how I turned out too, I know it, so why not just say it?" He moved his face in even closer to mine, so close that the smoke on his breath could have given me cancer.

"Keep dreaming, you bastard! Now back off!" I stuck my chocolate in my mouth and snatched his wrist, spinning him and then kicking his ankle out from under him. I slammed his upper body across the hood of the car and he cried out gruffly in pain as his chin hit the metal. "Are you finished?" I demanded through the chocolate in my teeth.

"…Hey, I don't mind this position, but I'd rather we switched," he cracked, laughing dryly even in his pitiful state.

I pushed him away and stomped off after a final kick to his leg. "You incorrigible son of a bitch!" I tore off a hunk of my melting candy and screamed with my mouth full. "Bring that map back inside when you're done, and don't even THINK about LOOKING at me until you shower and scrub that stench OFF of you!"

He stood back up from where he was bent over the hood and his head perked up. "Until?" he questioned in surprise, rubbing his doubtlessly sore chin.

"Say another word and it'll be NEVER!" I thundered, crossing the lot, trying to get away from him but also trying to get away from the fact that I had just given him permission as if I wanted him to do it. Preposterous!

It took him less than 30 minutes to return to the apartment and shower, and I listened to the plumbing screeching in the paper-thin walls. I was lying on the bed on my side, sweating beneath my leather. The air-conditioning didn't work in this shitty place, and it was even hotter in here than it was outside. I could only guess it was over eighty degrees, and that didn't take into account the thick humidity.

He walked in the room in only a towel, stretching his arms above his head. "Man, that grease didn't wanna come off," he said, strolling up to the bed and sitting next to me on it. I didn't look at him, even when he bent over my waist and placed both hands at either side of my shoulders. "I do smell better though, huh?" I more or less ignored him, looking off into the empty room. "What's on your mind, Mello?"

"It's sweltering in here," I stated, but in truth I was also distracted by my thoughts.

The plans ahead... Were they sufficient? I had to factor in Near's moves and Kira's possible counter-measures… Would this turn out to be all in vain? Could I ever really beat Near? And besides that…even though I should have been thinking of nothing else…I wondered… This thing we had going, Matt and I… What was it? I found myself needing to question it even though I swore to myself it wasn't worth questioning. The more he insisted, the more I analyzed in vain. What DID I think of him? Was he more to me now than he'd always been before? Were things different now-different from just business? I didn't want to think of such petty issues when such important things were at stake, but...

"Yeah, pretty much," he answered. "All that leather doesn't help either, I bet." He rolled me over onto my back without another word, unzipping my vest all the way down and spreading it open. He craned down to kiss and lick over my chest, collecting sweat and swelling the heat in my skin. I flinched agreeably with the pleasant sensations as he licked his way up to my neck and face to press his mouth over mine, searching with tongue and breath.

I let him, hardly reciprocating, but after a few minutes I turned away. "I don't feel like it anymore," I exhaled. "It's too hot… I have no energy." The crushing humidity was sapping my already depleted strength, and having sex right now would only be taxing. Not to mention my mind was too full to deviate from.

"…How long has it been since you slept, Mello?"

"Two…almost three days…"

"Why don't you get some rest then? I'll see if I can fix the AC while you're sleeping."

"I thought you were hell-bent on messing around," I said under my breath, raising an eyebrow at his generosity.

"Yeah, well, I always am. But you said a condition of getting you in bed was knowing when NOT to push you. You're going to run yourself down if you don't get some rest."

"Not likely."

"C'mon, I know you're tough but you're still human. Just chill while you have some spare time. We can mess around when you aren't half-dead; it'll be better for both of us then." He kissed me again and then moved to take off my boots for me. I threw away my vest and gloves while he slid off my belt. "That better?"

He stood up, grabbing the towel around his waist as it slipped off his ass, and then fixed it as he walked away. I sighed and let my head sink into the pillow and the sweat roll off my neck. He was being awfully selfless in this regard all of a sudden. I figured he would jump at the chance to fuck me when he saw my first sign of compliance in over a week, but his patience with me was astounding. Or maybe just cocky. Maybe he just wanted to try and prove he had the willpower to hold out because he knew how skeptical I was. Maybe he was just trying to be a showoff, like usual.

He came back in the room wearing a wrinkled pair of striped boxer-shorts, and tossed a set of clothes over the footboard to put on later I guess. He carried a toolbox over to the window and opened it, then grabbed a screwdriver and removed the metal casing of the cheap air conditioner set up there. He began to tinker around with the wiring and I watched him dully until I let myself slip away.

It seemed to be hours later when I was woken by the rattling din of the air conditioner springing back to life. I opened my eyes and he was screwing the panel back on the machine. He put his tools away when he was done and I realized it had only been a matter of minutes.

He turned around and noticed I was awake. "Sorry, dude. That was a lot louder than I expected. Cheap piece of shit."

"Don't worry about it."

"I cranked it as high as it'll go." He walked over and leaned his hands on the edge of the mattress. "Mind if I lay down? It'll be cool in here soon, but the living room's like an oven."

"…Whatever. I don't care what you do."

"Okay." He climbed into the bed next to me. I rolled over, making more room by laying on my side again with my back to him. He lounged on top of the sheets like I was, stretching his legs, making his knees pop loudly. He sighed and didn't say another word.

As the silence spread, I was reminded of all those years before at the orphanage. Back then it wasn't at all odd for us to share a bed nearly every night. We stayed in separate rooms before meeting L, but Matt couldn't stand the kids he shared the space with and always stayed in mine. Because no one else wanted to be near me, I'd been left with a room all to myself. Sleeping next to him had become ordinary to me, and yet now it rustled my nerves. Strangely enough though, the scent of smoke grafted into his skin drifted over me, and more and more it settled me into a state of calm, allowing me to fall back asleep easily.


	17. Chapter 16

**+Part 16+**

**December 9, 2009**

**7:13 p.m.**

I was next awakened by an odd thrumming, which I drowsily recognized as a cell phone vibration. I opened my eyes groggily, wiping at them and then looked around. I sat up, smoothing my mussed hair back, and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. That wasn't it, but I saw it was now after 7:00. I tried to figure out where the sound was coming from. I glanced at Matt, sprawled utterly unconscious beside me, and then rolled my eyes and crawled to the end of the bed. The vibration was coming from the pocket of the jeans he'd flung over the footboard. I growled in irritation and pulled the cell phone out of the pocket. It was frigidly cold in the room with the air conditioning unit rattling and quaking constantly.

This was a phone I had never seen him use before, and I looked at the name of the caller. Varla? I hit the talk button and put it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Jace, baby, where the fuck have you been? Your phone hasn't been on for, like, ever! I've been calling you nonstop! You haven't been at your apartment either! I'm getting fed up with your-"

I hung up on her. Who the hell was that? Some old flame of Matt's? I checked the voicemail, finding twenty unheard messages, and then browsed his inbox, finding countless texts from a large list of girls' names. How many girlfriends did the womanizing pig have? Did he just blow right through them like he did cans of drinks and video games? And why hadn't I seen this phone until now? A few moments later it vibrated again. I looked at the name with a grimace. Azella.

I opened it and barked, "What?"

"Jace? Is that you? Where have you BEEN, dammit?"

"This isn't Jace," I snapped.

"…Well why the fuck are you answering Jace's phone then? Let me talk to him!"

"Don't call here again." I hung up on her, getting another call as soon as I did. I checked the name. Fiona. ANOTHER girl already! Unbelievable! Matt snored and rolled over, scratching at himself and then stretching across the entire mattress as I answered his phone again. "What do you want?"

"Why haven't you been showing up to the club?" she asked fiercely. "I gave you a fucking schedule to keep for our dates!"

"Jace forgot, so you'd better do the same." I hung up again.

I was about to turn the phone off, but then it received a text from Cocoa. What the hell? I looked at what it said: "Hey baby U R in BIG TROUBLE! Call me L8er or ELSE!" I was about to shut the phone off, but instead I decided to try a little experiment. I took it off silent and set it on the nightstand next to his head, and then I laid back down beside him, having to lounge nearly on top of him since he was taking up the whole bed. I only had to wait about a minute or two before it rang, blaring with a loud, distorted rock and roll ring-tone.

I pretended to sleep, feeling him stir and then roll over out from under me awkwardly. He fumbled around, touching his face and hair. "Nnn… Shit… Huh…?" He shuffled around on the nightstand, and then I heard him mutter, "Yeah?"

I could hear the girl's high-pitched whining tone from a mile away. "Jace! Where have you been? I've been calling you and calling you but your phone's been off! Didn't you get my messages?"

"Uhhnn…" Matt groaned and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed. "…I took off for a while."

"Took off? Where? You better tell me right now, you asshole!"

"I can't tell you, Babe. I said a while back I probably wouldn't be a club member too long..." Club member? Had he been seeing girls behind my back while I was working my way up in the Mafia? Were these all floozies he'd been dating then when we were in LA-when he was supposed to be lying low?

"Well when the hell will you be back?"

"Probably never. Look, I gotta go…"

"Never? But what about us, you bastard?"

"I got better things to do, Babe. It was fun while it lasted."

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to, you pig?"

"I gotta go. So long." He hung up and then rubbed his face. He moved to lie back down, but the phone rang again and he answered it quickly, murmuring, "Fucking…" He spoke under his breath into the mouthpiece. "Hey."

"Hi, sexy," said a deeper woman's voice. "You haven't been answering your phone for a while. You're really pissing me off."

"Yeah, I sorta got caught up in something, Babe."

"Like what? Another woman?"

"Not exactly…" What the fuck was THAT supposed to mean?

"So what's her name? Does she put out at the drop of a hat?"

"No, not really." He exhaled and stood up, walking off. I noticed he was trying to spare me by talking and moving quietly. "Look, I had some business to take care of. I got tired of the club, so I left." Something about a club again?

"You get tired of things quick."

"Yeah, I know. I gotta go now."

"Whatever, asshole."

He hung up and chaffed his hand through his hair, walking out of the room. The phone rang again while he was in the den. I heard him light up a cigarette before he answered it. He spoke in the same uncaring, laid-back tone, even as he dismissed all these girls.

"Hey… Nah, I sold my place and left the club… Yeah, I found another job somewhere… Sorry, Babe, but I won't be back… No, I don't have time… Bye."

Why did he even bother answering if he was never intending to lay eyes on those bitchy sluts again? I listened to him smoke outside the door for a while before he came back in the room, turning the phone off finally. He sat back next to me on the bed, puffing away as quietly as he could.

"So," I remarked with a sneer, and saw his shoulders jump, "I like how you just called all of them BABE so you wouldn't need to bother remembering their names."

He glanced over his shoulder. "You were awake, huh?"

"Yeah. I answered the first few calls from Azella, Fiona, and Varla. You also got a text from…Cocoa."

"Hey, sorry… It must've turned on in my pocket when I grabbed my jeans…and they never call me until after dark… Didn't mean to wake you up…" Did he honestly think that's why I was irritated? He snuffed out his cigarette and lay back down next to me, resting both hands behind his head on the pillow.

"So how many of those girls thought you actually CARED about them?"

"Who knows? Girls are easy these days."

"So I see." I still glared at him, but of course he couldn't notice it in the dark. "Were all of those girlfriends?"

"Girlfriends? Heh, no way." He shrugged. "Most of them I just fucked around with now and then, in-between jobs. I try not to let things get serious, or else they get clingy and start wanting to hang out."

"And you gave your number to all of them?"

"Man, I forgot I even had that phone. I put it in the pocket of those pants forever ago, thinking I'd use it for parts, but it slipped my mind." He sighed. "It was easier just to pass out the number to that junk phone than it was to listen to them complain about me not wanting their numbers. I was planning from the get-go to trash that thing."

"That way it'd be just as easy to trash all of them, right?"

He looked over at me. "Yeah, basically…" He blinked. "Don't tell me you got a problem with that. Girls have never exactly been…your favorite people."

Definitely true, but that wasn't the point. Actually, I wasn't sure what the fuck my point was. "Never mind. Just shut your mouth; I'm tired of your voice."

He turned over and put his arm around me. "Hey… Hey, wait, you're not JEALOUS, are you?"

"What?" I demanded. "Why the fuck would I be jealous of a bunch of brainless sluts you don't even like?" I shoved his arm away.

"You're sounding pretty defensive about it to me."

"Well, you're hearing things."

"Hmm…really?" He bent down more closely over me, rubbing his hand across my bare chest, forcing the muscles there to tense against my will. "You mean it doesn't bug you at all that I've fucked other people when you haven't?"

I shoved him way more violently this time. "Are you TRYING to piss me off?"

"No, I'm trying to get you to admit you're jealous. Whether it's my old girlfriends calling or whether I just casually mention checking out women, you get mad." He grabbed the hand I'd shoved him away with and leaned back down close to me. "You know I'm right," he insisted with a crooked smirk.

"Now you're IMAGINING things! Just shut up already!"

"C'mon, Mello… Admit you want me all to yourself."

I just about boiled over. "There's NOTHING to admit! You're MY tool, MY dog-you're ALREADY my property! I have no reason to be jealous, even if I would be, which I WOULDN'T!" I inhaled and turned my face away, not knowing why I had blurted those outrageous things right in his face.

"…Your dog, huh?" He started to kiss and lick along the side of my neck that was facing him more-the scarred side. "I can live with that…" He kissed up across my ear and into my hair, breathing hotly through his mouth. "So, am I good dog…or a bad one?"

I growled at him, tempted to throw him off me, but also tempted to let him continue, much to my surprise. "As long as you obey your master's commands, you won't warrant a beating. That's all you need to know."

"Command away then, Master. I won't bite too hard."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Idiot."

He snickered "So if I'm a dog…how about I start behaving like one?" I knew what he implied even before he touched my crotch. My fly was unlaced and his hand was down my pants before I could even get a word in.

"Shit…!" My body went tense from head to foot and that primal, mindless part of me raged to life and threatened full-on surrender.

"C'mon, just chill out and let go. Jeez, it's like pulling teeth to turn you on." His hand worked faster as his mouth moved back to my neck, and his tongue started to roll against my marred flesh there. I clenched my fingers into the sheet, baring my teeth to keep my quickening breath locked away behind them. "Just because I'm a dog doesn't mean you gotta make me beg, Mello." The pace of his hand increased its speed, building the pressure in me until my spine was bowing forward and my toes were curling under. I came in his hand with a stuttered groan, going limp afterwards, but apparently he'd just gotten started.

He picked me up by my underarms and tossed me onto my hands and knees, pulling my pants down so roughly that a couple of his nails grazed my hip with a small slice of pain. His hand, which was wet from me, roamed my backside until he inserted a finger, feeling me out, and then adding another soon enough.

"How's that?" he whispered.

"…Fine," I snapped, struggling with the odd, yet shudder-inducing movements of his strong fingers.

"You ready?"

"Just stop asking."

"Here I go then." I grabbed onto the pillow just in time to brace myself as he removed his hand and entered me, fucking me hard in the most ironic possible way, certainly just to be obnoxious. "This good?"

"Shut up…!"

"You know if you don't tell me…I'll just make it up," he murmured with a chuckle, never stopping.

"Damn you, stop talking!" I growled a harsh breath through my teeth.

"Should I start barking instead?" He snickered gruffly into the back of my head, thrusting roughly until he was spent, his fluids spilling into me hotly. We collapsed, messy with sweat all over again. The furious air conditioner iced each droplet almost instantly, coating me in a clammy sheen.

He sat up with a relieved exhalation, instantly reaching for his pack of cigarettes. He popped one in his mouth and fumbled for a lighter as he sat back, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed.

"Fuck," I grumbled, positively livid now.

"What? Didn't you finish?" he questioned stupidly.

"You didn't give me much of an opportunity, you bastard."

"Oh, sorry... I still can't believe how tight your ass is sometimes. I get carried away."

"I don't need an explanation!" I roared, and peeled off my pants the rest of the way. I snatched his shoulders, swinging my leg over his thighs to straddle him. I smacked his pack of cigarettes away with the back of my hand and then swiped away the one in his mouth. With that same hand I forced his palm over my still-swollen erection. "Just shut up and fix it!"

He looked up at me with a smirk. "Right, Boss… Or should I switch to Master?"

"I hate you!" I snapped, trying not to visibly flinch when his hand closed around me.

"Nah, you don't hate me..." He jerked me off, heating my body as quickly as before while he penetrated me again, and this time I grinded him at my pace. He didn't seem to mind, and moved me in his lap just enough to ensure his own pleasure. He had one hand on my dick and the other clutching my waist to keep us working together in the motions. He leaned forward, kissing at my chest almost absently now and then, and renewing my sweat with the sheer heat of his breathing. My hands wandered uncontrollably over his arms and neck, trying to clutch at something, and settling at the base of his skull. My fingers dug at his scalp and I felt the shape of the two earrings in his right ear with my thumb. I traced them once.

After pumping against each other for a while, he fell back on the bed, laying his upper body flat, and moved his hand from my waist to my ass. "Matt," I began, but he just continued to thrust his hips upward, encouraging me, so I went on until we ended, grabbing at each other with mutual groans of relief. I slumped halfway onto his chest, holding myself up by both hands on his shoulders, and caught my breath.

"Told you…you don't hate me," he remarked, grabbing my ass in both hands now. He even dared to squeeze a little. "And neither does your tight ass," he commented.

"Hands off!" I snapped, and yanked him away by his wrists. He complied with a shrug and I growled and pushed my way off him, getting to my feet. I almost wobbled but I kept steady and picked up my phone to check the time, finding it close to 8:00. "Light will probably have another meeting with Takada tonight," I thought aloud, my head cleared substantially. He really did seem to be an effective means of stress relief…which I supposed was fair, given that he produced a great amount of my stress in the first place. "We'll have to keep an eye on the news and see what develops. No doubt he's finding some way to give her orders, even under surveillance… If she's in contact with Kira's current proxy…he'll use her as the perfect bridge between them. This is about to get trickier."

Matt stood up behind me and stretched his arms, popping both shoulder joints. "Fun," he said.

I shook my head. "I'm taking a shower," I told him, and began to collect a set of clothes.

"I'll just shower with you. It'll save time."

I stared at him. "No, you won't."

"Why not? It's not any worse than you riding me like a cowgirl all over the bed."

"Shut up! I don't particularly enjoy the fact that you see me naked at all, so showers are off-limits! Just wait until I'm done!"

"You're no fun."

"Your notion of fun is absurd," I griped, and then vanished into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door just to satisfy my ego. I showered off thoroughly, then dried and got dressed. I slid my Rosary back over my neck before I combed out my hair in the mirror and brushed my teeth clean of the smoky, gritty taste. When I stepped out into the living room, I found him playing a game on his GameCube. He'd thrown on his jeans and smoked his way through most of a cigarette. "I've got enough time to drive to the Teito Hotel and see if there are any changes in Light's meetings with Takada."

"Want me to do anything?"

"…If only I could hear what Light and Takada spoke about…"

"I could sneak in there if you want," he mentioned, pausing his game. "Or I could even find a way to slip a bug onto her. Kira doesn't know what I look like."

I contemplated. Maybe if I had Matt pose as a fan and approach Takada… Perhaps he could insist innocently on an autograph and put a bug on her sleeve… I could trust him to be crafty that way, and it was true he was safer than me out in the open…

He was watching me, waiting. I shook my head.

"No," I decided. "No, I can't risk it. If Light were to happen to find the bug on her…they'd just tighten their guard and then it would be impossible to gather any information… You can't let anyone that close to Kira be provoked by you… I'm too close now to make any slip-ups… One false move and you're dead, and then I'm next."

"Okay, Mello. Whatever you need. I can try some hacking sites if you want. I can check my connections, see if anybody's heard anything…cross some references..."

"Good. Do that while I'm gone."

"Okay."

**December 9, 2009**

**8:38 p.m.**

I waited in the alley just down the block from the Teito Hotel with binoculars handy. Aizawa had just left, presumably after setting up surveillance with Light, and Takada pulled up with her bodyguards at 9:00 on the dot. She stepped out of the car and hurried through the door almost excitedly. I watched and waited as an hour passed with no movement.

I decided to check in with Halle while I had a few minutes. No doubt Near had figured out he would have to return to Japan to finish his investigation. It would be good to know when and where he would set up headquarters. I dialed her number and waited, and she picked up after two rings.

"Hi, Mello," she said, so I knew she was alone. "It's been a while."

"Where are you?"

"At my new apartment in Tokyo," she said. "Near had us move SPK Headquarters to Japan in order to pursue Kira more effectively."

I knew it. "When did you arrive in Japan?"

"Just today, actually."

Good. He wasn't too far ahead. "Give me the address," I told her. She did.

"Do you want to know where my apartment is?"

"…Fine, just in case." She gave it to me. "Have you had any developments? Any suspects? I know one of the other NPA members came to you willingly, so he must've given something up."

"Well…he described the previous L's primary suspect to us."

"He did?" Deductions from L, the real L? "Tell me everything he said, now."

"He said that the previous L had kept a suspect in custody for over 50 days, and that during the time he was in captivity, criminals began killing again. L was forced into a corner by the taskforce and had Soichiro Yagami take the suspect as well as Misa Amane out into the middle of nowhere in a car. He said he was going to kill Kira and then kill himself, and threatened the suspect with a gun. He fired, but it was loaded with blanks. L rationalized that Kira would have killed Yagami to protect himself, so when he didn't, he was cleared. He was then permitted to stay with L to help solve the case, and they found and took another Kira into custody, someone named Higuchi, but he died shortly after being captured. That's all we found out."

Of course! It was all perfectly clear now! Why else would Yagami threaten to kill Kira and then himself, unless his own SON was Kira? Light must have passed his Death Note onto that Higuchi person and lost his memories to make himself look innocent. He must've known L would keep him close, so then when they tracked down the new Kira, he must've gotten his hands back on the Death Note and regained his memories-then killed Higuchi to retain them. It all added up with what I knew of the murder notebook.

I have absolute confirmation now: Light IS Kira, and L knew it too…he just couldn't PROVE it. But I can, and I will.

"So Near knows who Kira is then?" I asked.

"He has a suspect." No, she was covering for the little brat. He knew. If Near had any sense at all, he knew. We were tied in the race again, running neck and neck. "I don't think I can tell you who."

"No matter. I'll figure it out myself."

"I thought you'd say that… So you're in Japan too, aren't you?"

"…Will you tell Near?"

"No, I won't, but he'll figure it out soon enough."

"I know." I checked the front of the hotel, but the black cars were still there.

"Are you busy tonight?" she asked.

"I'm always busy."

"Would you like to have dinner? We can stay in so you won't be seen."

"Quit overstepping your bounds, Halle."

I hung up on her, jamming the phone in my pocket impatiently. I couldn't believe she was still somehow infatuated with me, even after everything. And that Takada woman openly worshipped Kira on national television. Not to mention Amane's blind devotion. Women were so fervently perplexing. I wasn't sure how Matt could be so attracted to them-brainless and weak and insipid as they were. I quite honestly couldn't believe he had the patience to endure them, but I suppose he was good at overlooking things he wasn't interested in, such as conversations with them. They were just walking sex-dolls to him, not potential companions. He had no need to really pay attention beyond the bedroom. His biggest flaw had always been his inability to focus, even now.

**December 9, 2009**

**9:39 p.m.**

Only about an hour later, Takada emerged looking nervous and jittery, which wasn't her usual demeanor. This meeting had been shorter than the previous two. After she left, Light emerged with a twisted grin I could relate to. He'd been up to something during this meeting, and evidently accomplished it, at the expense of her comfort. If only I knew what they were saying…but it did me no good to brood over the impossible. I had to focus on what I COULD accomplish, especially now that I knew Near and I were tied in the race. With just the slightest new development, I could pull ahead.

I drove back to the apartment, finding him on the couch with a computer in his lap and a towel around his neck. He had new jeans on but no shirt, and his goggles were sitting next to an open can of soda on the coffee table. He must've gotten lost in his hacking after taking a shower and forgot to finish the process, as he often did with things. I removed my jacket and walked up behind the couch, looking at what he was doing over his shoulder.

"What's up, Boss?" he asked, typing.

"Did you find anything out?" His hair was slightly damp, and he smelled momentarily pleasant. He had a cigarette burning in his lips, so that wouldn't last long.

"Maybe," he answered. He clicked around with the cursor and brought up a window. "I did some digging and found a couple photos of Takada from college," he explained. "They were banned from every site the Japanese government could get their claws on, since it seems she's become a total goddess to Kira worshippers. Her fans are crazy loyal, and no slander against her is permitted. Even impolite blogs are shut down and charged. God help you if you write a nasty comment about her on the NHN webpage." He clicked on a folder and showed me a few pictures of Takada, obviously a few years younger, eating lunch on a bench at a university. There was another of her walking with her schoolbooks, and another of her chatting with friends beneath a tree on the grounds.

"How does this help me, Matt?" I questioned.

"Check this out," he said, and brought up a single shot of Takada walking closely with a young man. It was too blurry to see. "Hold on." He zoomed in on the boy's face and adjusted the picture, straightening the pixels until a familiar visage took shape.

"That's Light Yagami," I breathed.

"Bingo. Looks like he and the Takada chick were dating in college-even though coinciding tabloids report that Misa Amane was dating someone named Light at that same time. Looks like it's a love triangle."

"God, those fucking women! He's got them jumping through hoops for him, the brainless twits!"

"Maybe he's just got it going on," Matt remarked. "Like me."

I scoffed. "At least this confirms a few things. Light was able to establish secret meetings easily with her even though she's such a celebrity because he was dating her previously... They were already connected before this entire thing started..."

"But I thought you said Light couldn't communicate with his proxy, so how did that guy end up picking her?"

"She was a famed newscaster already," I thought aloud. "This proxy must be in a position to speak to people who work in the news. Doubtless he's also an avid Kira worshipper, but he must be very intelligent too. He probably picked up on her admiration for Kira… And he happened to choose a woman Kira was already acquainted with…"

"Kira sure has some crazy-ass luck on his side."

"Unfortunately, yes. But I'm closing in, and he's running out of advantages."

"Yeah." He closed the window.

"Did you find anything else?"

"Not really. Some rumors… Nothing solid."

I sighed. "Okay. I have to think out my next move… There's not much I can do right now without alerting Kira to my presence. He can't know I'm here."

"What if he already assumes you are?"

"I'm sure he does, but he has no proof. As long as we keep lying low, we'll be fine until my plan pans out. He isn't out headhunting us, and his focus will be on Near anyway, since the brat is right in his face. I should have enough breathing room as long as we aren't spotted or cause a big scene."

"Shouldn't make any hasty moves from now on then, huh?"

"That's right."

"Well, at least you anyway. Kira still doesn't know I exist." He stood up and ruffled his hair a little with the towel before he tossed it over the couch. "Maybe it's a good thing nobody remembers Number Three." He combed his fingers through it, trying to settle it straight, never bothering to comb it that I knew of. He was like L in that way too: so much less conscious of his appearance than me. He rummaged around for a striped long-sleeved t-shirt, this one red and grey. He slid his goggles over his eyes, adjusted them, and then stepped into his boots. "I'm starving, so I'll go get something to eat. What you want?" He yanked on his gloves and stowed his wallet in his jeans.

I thought about it. "Anything will be fine, but try to get an actual meal worthy of human consumption. If you come home with an armful of junk food, you'll be sleeping in the hallway."

He blew his breath out through his teeth. "Japanese don't even HAVE junk food, Mello. All their candy and snacks are made of radishes and rice and shit."

"That's a misinformed generalization, but all the same, bring home something that'll actually benefit us, got it?"

"Fine… I'm gonna have to say no to squid though." He threw his vest on and fastened it up to his chin. He shoved his orange phone in one pocket and grabbed the car keys and his soda, chugging it on his way out the door.

I sat down at a computer to browse the net as I listened to the local late night news. Kira this, Kira that, crime rates continuing to drop, more countries pledging allegiance to Kira... My usual websites were all pretty much the same. There wasn't much point in checking them anymore, I suppose. It had only been about 15 minutes, and Matt called me.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"I went to this place to order takeout, and one of the taskforce members was ordering a couple people in front of me," he said.

"What? Where are you now?"

"Out in the car. I hung around until he left. It was Ide, and he was getting food for everyone back at headquarters, so I listened to the conversation he was having on his cell."

"What was he saying?"

"Sounded like he was talking to Aizawa, seeing as how they're ex-partners. He was saying how suspicious Light's conversations with Takada are, like they're saying one thing but actually meaning another, but they can't figure out why. Aizawa and him definitely suspect Light, if no one else on the taskforce does."

"So Ide and Aizawa are working together to actively investigate Light."

"Yeah, and he mentioned how frustrating it was for Light to be so suspicious but so innocent at the same time. He mentioned that Light even knows they're watching him, and he doesn't mind."

"No wonder that kid managed to overtake L…" I thought aloud. "He's a genius at backing people into corners and saving his own ass. L was probably so close to exposing him, but the pressures of the taskforce bound him. With all of them being police officers, L wouldn't have been able to act nearly as freely as he wanted to-needed to. They probably constrained him to the point where he was left dangling, just outside the truth, and unable to make a final move." I scoffed. "Damn it… And NOW they decide to investigate the little bastard again… If they had listened to L back then…Light Yagami would be on death row right now."

"…And L would still be alive."

"Most likely."

"So the taskforce is just as much responsible for L's death as Light is."

"Practically." I scoffed again. "It really pisses me off to think L asked them for their help and they didn't let him operate as he wished. That must be exactly what happened, with their insistence on legal morality. Even now…"

"Yeah, Ide mentioned that he never trusted L, but it seems like he was right after all. He and Aizawa are relatively certain Light is Kira, but like us, they have no proof."

"All three of us-Near, the taskforce, and you and me-are also constrained. Without proof, without worldwide exposure, Kira's death will only make him a martyr."

"Yeah. Like L."

"Yes."

"Sure as hell don't want that." We were quiet for a few moments. "Well, I'll head back then. Food's getting cold."

"Okay, Matt. You're sure you weren't seen by Ide?"

"He might've caught a glance, but I wasn't doing anything suspicious."

"The fact that you're a Caucasian redhead strolling around Tokyo in an American Muscle Car is suspicious enough!"

"He didn't give me a second glance, I swear. He was more focused on his phone conversation."

"As long as you're sure."

"No sweat. Be back soon." He hung up, and then walked in the door fifteen minutes later. "Hey," he greeted through the cigarette in his lips, "I got teriyaki steak with rice and miso soup." He set the large takeout bag on the kitchen counter. "I also got us some hot sake," he informed me with a grin.

I rolled my eyes. "You drink too much."

"No, if I was drunk all the time I'd be drinking too much. You ever seen me drunk?"

"…No," I admitted.

"See?"

"All it does is poison your liver and kill your brain cells," I stated firmly, "and you don't have too many of those to spare." He sighed, blowing smoke from between his lips. I walked up to him and grabbed it out of his mouth, snuffing it in the sink. "And don't get me started on THOSE filthy fucking things."

"Jesus, Mello, no matter what I do it isn't good enough," he began, and then leaned forward against me, halfway pinning my ass to the sink, "unless it's in bed." He eased forward as if he was going to kiss me.

I exhaled irritably and shoved him off. "Ease off the throttle, you horny bastard." I walked past him and began to open up the packages of food. "I haven't eaten in a while, and nourishing my body comes first."

The cold leather of his gloved hands clasped at the bare skin of my waist. "I could nourish your body plenty," he cracked, and then snickered.

I suppose I left myself open for that one, much to my resentment. "I'm not in the mood for this crap, Matt," I growled, and elbowed him harshly in the ribs. He let me go with a grunt and I took a container of steak and rice with wooden chopsticks in one hand and a cup of miso soup and a plastic spoon in the other. I sat down on the sofa and placed my meal on the coffee table, and he followed suit right after. He'd brought out two cups with him, and he poured us each some sake. I glared at him but he just raised his cup in a toast with a small grin and drank it. I sipped mine in-between mouthfuls.

We ate together in silence, and I realized it was probably the first time we'd ever done that. I was shocked as more and more time passed, and he didn't turn the TV back on. I decided not to mention it, and continued to eat in peace, appreciating the rare opportunity.

"How is it?" he asked.

"Fine."

"So…have you thought about what our next move should be?"

"No, not yet. Near's on the verge of a big move, I know it. Once I find out what it is…I'll plan around it, use it, and then counter it with my own strategy. I'll walk right over him to cross the finish line."

"Make sure you step on his head a little," Matt remarked, and then stuffed his face some more.

I smiled dryly at his comment and continued my meal. Something from earlier suddenly came back to my attention. I'd gotten justifiably distracted, but now with idle time it had resurfaced. I don't like loose ends. "Matt."

"Yah?" he mumbled with his mouth full.

"Earlier, you and a few of those girls who called you mentioned a club. What club?"

He chewed and swallowed. "When we first moved to California, before you were a member of the Mafia, sometimes I'd work late at this hacker club… I went back there every now and then after you joined…since you didn't come home for months at a time. I got seriously bored. "

"Hacker club?"

"Yeah, it's like…a front for pro hackers. It looks like a normal cyber club to most people, but to anyone with enough cash it becomes a place to get information under the table. Big shots from all over used to stop in. Lawyers, politicians, drug lords…you name it. You just hand over the cash, and a hacker finds what you need, no strings attached. Then the customers can turn around and use it however they want…usually for blackmail and shit." He shoved more food in his mouth. "I made a lot of fast money there, and there was never a shortage of girls…so I hung around a while."

"I thought I told you to keep a low profile while we were in LA"

"I did. That club was totally underground, and I went by an alias. Only the floozies ever saw my face, and usually then it was in the dark." He shrugged. "There were so many strobes going on in that place it was hard to tell which end was up. Those crooks probably wouldn't recognize their own mother if she was standing in front of them." He took a drink. "Don't worry, Mello, I made sure it was all good before I got involved."

"I still would have preferred you to stay hidden."

"Yeah, I know, but for a while I was seriously gonna go crazy. It was just me, sitting around in the apartment, with nothing to hack and no one to talk to. You only called every few weeks, and only to give me updates. It got boring as hell. I had to get out of that place."

I considered as we ate. I'd never thought about how long I'd left him alone in the two years I'd been part of the Mafia. I never even asked how he felt about it. I only ever called to give him information or orders. No wonder he'd gone out seeking work and company. He wasn't like me; he couldn't live solely on a singular drive, a singular focus. He needed more normal things to get along. More human things. We didn't say anything else for the rest of the night.


	18. Chapter 17

**+Part 17+**

**December 12, 2009**

**1:26 a.m.**

After a two straight days of doing absolutely nothing—no developments, no ideas, no clues—I left the apartment, barking something vague at Matt. It was after midnight when I left, and I'd been driving haphazardly through the crammed streets of Tokyo on my motorbike. I'm not sure what I was doing, or why, but I suppose I was just vainly attempting to escape from the choking monotony of this case. I think I'd hoped I could clear my head, and so I ended up speeding. I outran a cop who caught me and ended up on the other side of the city.

I observed my surroundings, extracting the map I'd been detailing my possible plans on from my jacket and observing it beneath the glare of a streetlight. It seemed I was nearby to the SPK's new headquarters, the address of which I'd circled. Each of the members had acquired a dwelling within a three-mile radius of that point, and they were also circled. I'd written on it mostly for Matt's benefit, as he didn't have a photographic memory like Near or I did, and was much better at grasping ideas if they were presented visually. I imagined he was playing video games right now. He could memorize every tiny element of every level, where items were located, how to make his way through dungeons and secret bonus stages, but he couldn't remember large textual details, like documents, dates, or addresses.

I considered, and supposed while I was all the way over here, that I could drop in on Halle and get some updates on her information. It had been over a day since they arrived in Tokyo, and Near certainly had something in mind by now. It would take me less than ten minutes to get to her condo, and then this little trip might not turn out to be a total waste of my idle time.

I turned around, revving the engine and taking off down the street, darting in-between cars and buses but refraining from breaking the speed limit again. I couldn't afford any more stupid mistakes, but either way the police were on high alert in these troubled times. It would probably be difficult not to get pulled over in my situation, so I made sure my helmets always had reflective visors. I found her condominium complex easily enough, for no expenses were spared on the place, and parked my bike across the street. I left my helmet behind on the seat before I slunk out to crouch in the shadows near the front gate. I flipped open my phone and dialed her number.

She picked up after four rings, sleepily murmuring, "Mello?"

I hung up. Just the fact that she answered told me Near hadn't put her under surveillance in this new place. Good. I stowed my phone and then backed up, getting a running start and then jumping and climbing up the stone privacy wall. I slung my legs over and dropped, landing in a small garden. I looked around, but there was no one outside, and I was away from the glaring security lights on the gate. I knew what number she was staying in, so I slunk along the corridors until I found it. I knocked on her door and waited, hearing her click the deadbolt, and then she peered through the space above the safety chain. She blinked and then shut the door, removed the chain, and opened it enough to let me inside. I stepped through the frame, my hand ready on my gun inside my jacket just in case she'd decided to finally betray me.

She shut the door behind me and turned, only slightly clutching her thin robe shut. It was silky and hardly did anything to cover her black satin nightgown beneath. It was low-cut and form fitting, only going to mid-thigh, and her curves filled it to perfection. Her hair was down, brushed but not styled, and she wore no makeup. I saw she was still wearing my gold rosary bracelet on her wrist.

She looked me over once, blinked slowly, and then shook her head. "What are you doing here, Mello? It's nearly 2:00…"

"I happened to be on this side of town and decided to see what new information you have for me," I told her, practically enough. I slid my hand casually out of my inner jacket and jammed it in my side pocket instead.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked, her confused voice softening a little.

"Not unless it's absolutely unnecessary for me to be awake."

She sighed. "And you drove all the way here just to ask what Near's been doing?"

"Not just Near," I said sharply, already impatient with her presence. "I know you've found Kira, and I know you've figured out he and his new proxy are communicating. I want to know everything else you've uncovered about their movements, and what Near plans to do next."

"…So you've found Kiyomi Takada, then?" I nodded. "She's an acquaintance of L's from college, and they have regular meetings. Takada is an avid Kira worshipper, and is working with L to communicate with the proxy. We haven't discovered who the third party is, yet."

I knew that much already. "You have no suspects?" I questioned sharply.

"There are thousands and thousands of Kira supporters in Japan alone," she said. "It's quite an ordeal."

"But I know Near, and I know he'll find out who it is. Will you tell me when he does, or will you lie to me?"

She sighed, releasing the cloth of her robe to let it fall open. She walked past me down the hall, placing a hand to her eyes and rubbing them briefly. "You just aren't capable of trusting me, are you?"

"…You've said yourself you're on the fence. If Near tells you to do something, you'll do it, and that includes withholding information from me, or even lying about it so I'll pursue a false lead. Your words alone could throw me off my entire investigation, IF I trusted you completely. So I don't."

She turned back to me, looking me dead in the eyes, the hazel of hers thickening, darkening. "Do you trust anyone completely, Mello? With your confidence, with your life? Anyone at all in the world?"

…I did. But I wouldn't tell her. I wouldn't even tell HIM…not yet, anyway.

"Now that L's dead, no, I don't," I answered.

"You can trust me, Mello. Near's close, really close, but he can't get there without you. If I lied to you it would only hinder my investigation as well. Near needs you to keep going with this, so he'll let you alone to do as you please."

I observed her for a moment. "So Near has no plans? I find that hard to believe."

She glanced away, and then looked back at me. "…Near has arranged for me to become one of Takada's personal bodyguards, so that I can keep a close eye on her and try to find out more. I'll be starting that job on the 14th, and I'll keep you posted on any updates, as usual."

"…Her personal bodyguard, hm? Isn't that a bit obvious? The taskforce will know something's up, and then Kira will alert Takada that you're a spy."

"I'm sure that's part of Near's plan too. He likes to play games with L—with Kira. He strings him along and leaves him hanging often."

"That sounds like Near. Always sure he's the best."

"Besides, that Takada woman doesn't seem very bright. I'm sure I can earn her trust in spite of L's cautions." We just stood there for a few silent moments in her foyer. "…Would you like to come in and sit down then? Maybe have a drink? I could make you something."

"I'm fine. I should get going."

"You don't have to leave, Mello," she said, suddenly, quietly. "This place isn't bugged, and I'm not under surveillance anymore. I told you, Near intends to let you move freely."

I eyed her as she stepped closer across the hall, not much taller than me now that she was barefoot and I was in boots. "And what about you?" I asked suspiciously. "What do you intend?"

She glanced away and then back, sliding a stream of her platinum-blonde hair behind her ear before she pulled apart her robe and let it fall to the floor around her ankles. "I intend to let you move freely, too." She reached up, fingertips grazing my chin, and then moved them further, her lips parting with her anxiousness.

I snatched her wrist before she could touch where she was aiming for: the gruesome scar on my face. "I thought we'd been through this," I snapped, tossing her a glare, only mildly enraged. For some reason, she was calming me again, calming me in the head. Stress dulled with her, receding to the background. Deep thought withdrew, allowing for other things to step forward. Something base and animalistic clawed its way free, trying desperately to surface without knowing how. It was too primal for my superior brain to comprehend. It was worse now than it had ever been.

Why? Why did this always happen to me when I was close to her? She was making this happen somehow, and I didn't like it… I didn't like the way I was questioning myself. "I don't have time for this," I snapped at her again.

"You said you had no use for sleep right now, and I don't mind if you keep me awake." She brought her other hand forward to grab my lapel. I let go of her wrist and she caressed both hands inside my jacket, over my shoulders. She pushed the fabric so the garment fell off one shoulder. She massaged up and down my upper arms, wherever she could reach skin, lingering on the deformed tissue of my left shoulder. Her hands were soft and she smelled good, but I had no use for this.

I shrugged her off, finally, not knowing why it took me so long. "This isn't the time, Halle," I said firmly, stepping back.

She stepped with me, slinging her arms around my neck, not desperately, but with determination. "Why isn't it? You're here in the middle of the night, unannounced. Is it really because you just wanted to interrogate me?"

"Of course," I barked. "Why else would I be here?"

She let her hands flow down over my chest, massaging lightly again. "Because you want something else from me. Maybe you don't realize it, maybe you never have, but you do." She was definitely persistent, especially considering how cruelly I treated her. Was she a glutton for punishment, like Matt? How did I keep associating myself with willing victims? Were those the ONLYpeople I could associate with effectively? She was shoving my jacket down so the sleeves slid free, and then unzipping the front of my vest before I could think enough to stop her. Her hands roamed my bare chest, tracing the scar, making my muscles tighten. She watched my teeth clench as she touched me. She leaned into my neck, kissing there as her fingers swam through my hair. "Come into the bedroom," she said in my ear.

I hardly considered why I was following her as she guided me by my neck down the corridor and through the first door on the right. She discarded my vest on the way through and I briefly surveyed the modestly feminine interior of her bedroom before she kissed me on the mouth. I didn't reciprocate, of course, but I didn't shove her away either. After a moment she withdrew from my nonresponsive lips, looking me easily, fearlessly, in the eyes again. Few people had ever done that in my life.

"It's okay, Mello," she said, still in the same soft, sultry tone. "I'll teach you."

"What could you possibly teach me?" I retorted, my face remaining tight, although something in me urged for a release of the tension. Why did she have this effect on me? I'd never paid any attention to women, and so I'd easily avoided the brain-nullifying effects they seemed to have on men. Of course, I'd never let any woman stay this close to me before. All those who tried had been abruptly hit or threatened severely. Women just weren't worth the trouble. Several of the loose, painted Mafia whores had tried now and then, but they learned quickly enough to avoid me.

"Lots of things," she replied. "And you can teach me too."

"What if I have no interest in learning anything new? What if I've learned all I need to know?"

"There's always more," she insisted slyly.

Her hands still swam through my hair as she embraced my neck. She nudged me back, and I found myself allowing her guidance as she slunk onto the bed and I crawled on top of her sprawled body. I was on my hands and knees over her, caging her in, my hair falling to frame my face and my rosary tumbling against her, the silver crucifix resting in her substantial cleavage. She really did smell very good, especially compared to what I was used to: the heavy blended scents of smoke, oil, and metal. I shook away the sensory memory, hardly realizing she was kissing me. Again, I didn't react much, but this time she didn't relent. She slid her hands over my chest, rubbing in circles. It was sufficiently stimulating, and she continued as my skin there became taut. She tried to encourage me with her searching tongue, so I responded to her kisses. I rolled my tongue around inside her mouth, trying not think about the fact that I was applying what I'd just learned in the past few weeks.

I felt her moan softly in compliance before her hands wandered down my body, tautening it inch by inch until she reached my crotch. She undid my pants and briefly hesitated, looking up at me through her eyelashes before her fingers wandered inside. I bared my teeth at her but she just continued to look at me as she groped me with her soft, warm hand. Her leg glided across mine and she guided my gloved hand down to her thigh. She kept it there until I gripped her flesh, making her gasp and tighten her hold. I grunted behind my teeth and she leaned up to kiss my neck. I stared at her pale, fragrant hair strewn on her sheet underneath us, at my hand pressing into the mattress…

I seemed to feel nothing out of the ordinary, excepting the physical stimulus. My mind was settled, at ease. My usual passion seemed to die with her. Why? Why was this different? Shouldn't I prefer this? I'm a man, in spite of my slight body and the shape of my face. I'd been mistaken for female more than once, but I'd quickly and brutally corrected the offenders. I'd always defended my dominance with fierce aggression and a staggering ego. So why didn't I seem to feel anything in this woman's arms?

When she arched her back and pressed the front of her body to mine, I found myself biting my teeth together even harder. She was so soft, and I could feel the entire shape of her breasts, something else I'd never experienced.

"Mello," she said, her breath on my neck. "Have you never done this before?" I hadn't done this exact act before, no, but this wasn't the first time I'd been in a sexual encounter. It was far from the first time, actually.

I stopped completely then, when she began to slip out of her nightgown. What could I be thinking? I was supposed to be hidden, untraceable. I couldn't even comprehend all the possible disasters that could stem from hasty intercourse with this woman; a member of Near's force, my competition, an individual I couldn't even begin to trust. I'd just recently scolded Matt for all the times he'd shown himself in public, compromising our stealth, and here I was doing the same.

What had come over me? Why had I allowed myself to go this far? Why did my brain fall apart every time my body took precedence? I could keep pain in check, so why not this? I was being completely unreasonable, foolish even! And besides…I didn't like the way I doubted myself when I was with her. Not at all.

"Enough," I barked, and grabbed both her wrists in my hands, pushing them down on the bed.

"What is it, Mello?" she asked.

"I have to go," I stated gravely, and got off the bed, standing and fixing my pants. I picked up my vest from the floor and put it back on.

"Why?" she asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"We're not allies," I said, heading back into the hall. She followed me, adjusting her straps. "I don't know what you hoped to get out of me, but you won't get it." I put my coat back on.

"You felt something, I know you did," she insisted, although she wasn't trying very ardently to keep me there. Was this whole thing a ruse after all? Or maybe she knew me well enough by now to know there was no changing my mind?

"I don't have any time for things like this, and neither do you. I have no use for it. You should be concentrating on the job at hand, not on trivial endeavors."

"It's not trivial to me." I paused at that, but then scoffed and shook my head. "When this is all over, Mello…" she began, weakly.

"When this is all over, either we'll be dead or I'll disappear. There's nothing else after that."

"Mello…"

"I told you, didn't I? Find yourself a good man. I don't have the mind for it. You're honestly just wasting your time."

"And I told you, Mello…that you ARE a good man, even if you don't realize it. I believe that and I have faith in you." I glanced at the earnest affection in her eyes one last time before I turned away. "Be careful…"

I scoffed, going out her door and returning to my motorcycle without looking back.

**December 12, 2009**

**3:32 a.m.**

I heard the noise of slaughter and mayhem from the television once I stepped through the door. He was at his games just as I thought, never getting bored or tired of them like he did with everything else. I slammed the door loudly as a sudden, raging urge clutched at me, starting in the middle and ricocheting outward through every nerve. I couldn't seem to control it or keep it in check, and it would take too much effort to try and do so. Halle had nearly pushed me to a point I hadn't wanted to reach, but her fragrant, soft body responding under me hadn't ignited any fires. She wanted me, she had never hidden that fact, yet no matter how willing she was I simply didn't welcome her advances.

By all accounts, I probably should have. That would be the accepted human impulse, wouldn't it? I was a man on my way to the grave, with a beautiful woman lusting for me. I should have responded differently. But I didn't. I felt even more like an outsider in the human race than I ever had before. I was missing a crucial piece of the human puzzle, a piece that would have made emotions clear, a piece that would have been useful in this unprecedented situation—an absent piece of humanity. It just wasn't there. I probably hadn't been born with it at all.

I threw off my jacket and walked around the sofa, blocking his view of the TV. He immediately leaned over so he could see around me, his mouth tweaking with concentration, but he said not a word. I growled and then grabbed the cord of the controller and ripped it out of his hand, letting it clatter to the floor.

"Dude, what's up with you?" he demanded, watching his character get mauled and killed on the screen. "Aw, damn it! Now I have to start the mission all over!"

"Just shut up about those stupid fucking things!" I marched right up to him and grabbed his shirt collar in both hands, yanking him up with a heave of strength. I threw him down on his back across the cushions violently and he stared up at me through his goggles.

"What'd I do wrong this time?" he asked, throwing up his hands harmlessly. I crawled on top of him, straddling his hips. I grabbed up his shirt again and lifted him, getting in his face.

"Nothing yet," I snapped, and held him there while I unzipped my vest, watching his eyes widen behind the orange fiberglass. When I pulled it off and reached up to yank his goggles from his head, he was still staring at me.

"Whoa, man, what's the occasion?" he asked.

"Are you complaining?" I demanded.

"Well, uh, no…but you've never been the one to make the move before... Are you just suddenly in the mood, or what?"

"Why the fuck do you care about a reason?" I roared. I reached down and snapped open his black grommet belt. "Just shut your mouth and get to it!"

"Uh, okay…whatever you want, Boss…"

He grabbed me by the arms and pulled my face to his, hurling me into a deep kiss immediately. The scent of him eclipsed my nostrils without hesitation, stinging me with the thick spice of cigarette smoke, and mixed with hints of metal, motor oil, and warm skin. He tasted the same way he always did also, and I found it to be familiar, nearly in a comforting manner. His tongue was swimming around and against mine, almost anxiously, even though just before he'd seemed so lazy and disinterested. All day he'd been lethargic and dragging his feet, but now…

He flipped me over beneath him on the couch, withdrawing from my mouth with a slick of saliva trailing between us. "You really wanna do it right here?" he asked huskily.

"I don't care," I growled. "I don't care what you do, just do it."

"Oh really?" The corner of his mouth curled up. His mouth engulfed mine again as his hands undid and tore open my belt. I frowned within his kiss at his forcefulness but I couldn't bring myself to stop him. "Now you've got me all hot and bothered," he said, his breath even warmer across my wet mouth. "I was gonna just do this quick but now I feel like fooling around..."

"Damn it, Matt," I growled, but I realized I'd already resolved to allow this, even before I walked through the door. Was it an experiment? Did I want to see just how different it was, and why? Again, as it was with no other person, all my questions died away.

His mouth buried itself in my neck, leaving a slick trail from there downward as he dragged his tongue over me. I pressed my head back into the couch cushion, fighting to maintain my composure. It had been so easy not to make a sound, not to muster a reaction, when I'd been with Halle. Matt continued to lick me, pausing briefly on each nipple before he continued down the middle of my body. He rolled it inside my navel, making my stomach clinch. He slid his gloved hands underneath me, lifting me by my hips and holding me there as he ripped open my pants and then licked along the currently most eager part of me. I cried out in my throat, suppressing it harshly as he continued to mull about, sucking and lapping and driving me insane.

"Get…to the point…!" I managed to choke out.

He lifted his head, looking at me down the line of my body. "You said you didn't care what I do," he reminded me, and then held me up with one arm under my thigh while he bit the middle fingertip of his other glove. He pulled it off, and then he commenced pleasuring me with both his hand and mouth in unison. I bit down on a throaty groan, still battling my rampant urges. I gripped the edge of the sofa and his shaggy hair, my fists clenching. This didn't seem to hinder him as he went on and on, towering me to dizzying heights until he abruptly pulled away, leaving me unfinished and aching.

"Fuck," I hissed. He set me down as he licked his lips, and then pulled off his other glove, followed by his shirt, tossing them. I couldn't possibly move, but that was no problem for him as he removed my boots and peeled off my pants. He observed me, sweating and sprawled on the filthy couch, and his intense eyes made me wary all of a sudden.

"I like the look of you down there," he said. "Really gets me hot."

"Shut up," I replied through my heavy breathing.

"…I was thinking," he mentioned.

"How shocking," I remarked bitingly.

He snickered as he stood up from the sofa and walked to my end, undoing the fly of his jeans on the way. "I was thinking maybe you should suck me off," was what he finally said.

I stared up at him in disbelief, pushing myself onto my hands. "What?" I demanded.

"Sure. That way I'll be nice and lubed up for you. It's a win-win situation." His grin was smug as hell, and I didn't like it at all.

"You really think I'd do that, you pig?" I sneered.

"Yeah, I do," he remarked, and hooked his thumb in the edge of his boxer shorts, nudging them down to reveal a line of fine ginger hair. "If you want me to go any further, anyway."

"You're a bastard," I growled.

"Already knew that."

I got up onto my knees on the couch and he leaned his pelvis forward, pulling his boxers down the rest of the way to expose his erection. How could he be so shameless? I bent forward reluctantly, and one of his hands slid into my hair, gripping my locks roughly at the back of my head, pulling me forward.

"You can pretend it tastes like chocolate," he cracked.

I snarled up at him and then snatched his jeans pockets fiercely in both fists, yanking him to me. He chuckled under his breath as I took it in my mouth, determined not to crumble or wilt in his presence. I had no idea WHY I was so determined, and I had no idea WHAT I was doing, having never done this before, but I soldiered through it, mimicking what he'd done to me and not particularly enjoying myself. But the further I went, the more he groaned stutteringly in approval, so I figured I was doing something right. He clasped my head against himself excitedly, all his muscles flexing in need.

"Mello," he grunted, and I pulled away before he could end, just to satisfy my own sadism. He sank forward like his bones were made of water, catching his breath on top of me. "Shit, should've known you'd do that…" he moaned. He pressed one knee between mine and then shoved me against the back of the sofa.

"Hey, watch it," I began, but he hauled my legs up by his hands under both my knees. He braced himself against the floor with one boot and penetrated swiftly, forcefully, bringing a groan from me despite my best efforts. "God," I hissed below my breath.

He throttled into and out of me with noticeably improved finesse, but no lack of power. How could he be so strong and aggressive in this when he didn't even bother to WALK at a tolerable pace? He moved one hand from my knee and reached over my shoulder, gripping the back of the couch, his face taut with effort, beads of sweat beginning to gather on him.

I dared to watch him while he moved above me, in me, and found him somehow engrossing. The way his breath passed his wet lips in gusts, the way his voice wakened like never before, the way his usually unobserved muscles flexed and clenched… It seemed so fascinating, even as I writhed from the pleasure of it. His chest was firm, not specifically toned, but I noticed several lingering reddish-brown freckles across its moist surface. I hadn't bothered to before, but there they were. Come to think of it, he had them dusted sparsely all across his arms and shoulders too, with just a scarce few faint ones on his cheekbones and the bridge of his noise, those usually hidden under his goggle frames. When we were children he'd had a great deal more, and I used to make fun of him for it. Now they were faded, but they seemed finally fitting.

He tried to lift me higher, bring me closer, but our position was too angular so I tried to adjust. He did so for me, grabbing me under both my arms and tossing us across the sofa. He paused for a throbbing minute while he got his bearings and then resumed, this time spread on top of me, my back flat on the cushions and his knees pressed hard below my thighs. The wrinkled denim of his jeans rubbed me raw as he went on, but I couldn't begin to deal with it, so I ignored it. My hands were idle at my sides, my fingers just digging in vain at the furniture fabric, so I slung my arms around him, grabbing both his shoulders, and tried not to think about how my legs were hugging him on their own.

"Matt," I managed to exhale.

"Yeah?" he breathed back.

"I need you to…" I trailed off, not sure if I wanted to say it out loud. I shouldn't have said anything at all, but this sort of thing always seemed to take precedence over my usual precision.

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, and his hand found my shaft, stroking it clumsily for a while until he synced it with the rhythm of his thrusts. He'd known exactly what I wanted and I flinched pleasantly with it. "Sometimes I forget you got one too," he remarked with a breathless chuckle.

"You…!"

But his hand working my cock was too much to break through, and words died a quick death. His other hand still squeezed my thigh, keeping it pushed high, nearly against my chest, to make his motions easier. He labored on and on, making time spiral out of existence and my lungs abandon control. We came together, heaving against each other with the final moment, our voices gone unheeded. He slumped down onto me, having relinquished his semen inside me, as he apparently liked to do. I noticed his chest was wet with my own. I finally realized I still had my gloves on, so I peeled them off, leaving my hands sweaty beneath. He pushed up onto his arms after a while, looking down at me, still fighting for oxygen.

"You okay?" he asked.

I flinched at the question, but he didn't seem to realize. "Fine."

"You're supposed to say…amazing," he commented, "incredible, awesome—that I'm a god."

"…I can tell you now that's never going to happen."

"I figured." He got off of me, sitting back on the couch. He noticed the streaks of wetness on his chest finally and smirked over at me.

"Don't you dare say a fucking word," I warned.

"Okay, okay…" He picked up his shirt from the floor and wiped himself off, handing it to me after. I folded it over, wiping myself off with a clean section. I sat there naked and facing him, seeming to be angry but for some ludicrous reason I was relieved also. Our clothes were strewn haphazardly over the back of the sofa and the floor, but he hadn't dared to wait long enough to remove his jeans. This was how it usually ended up, with me unclothed and he still partially dressed. His laziness astounded me sometimes, especially in contrast to his force and deftness just a few moments earlier.

Was that the only thing that could motivate him? He certainly did think like an ordinary man, at least compared to me. I still saw these trysts as distractions, not something most men would say, especially at my age. I knew I was too mature for my short years, but Wammy children tended to be so—we're programmed that way from the moment we set foot in those hallowed, suffocating halls. He'd said something a while ago about me being the only drive he had, but I hadn't attributed it to this.

He puffed his way madly through a cigarette and started on another before he retrieved the game controller from the floor and started playing his game again right where he left off. I sighed gruffly and gathered my clothes, watching him continue the mission he'd died on. I scoffed through my teeth and put my pants back on, then brushed my hair out of my eyes. It was getting long, longer than I was accustomed to having it, but that was so it could adequately hide my face. I went into the kitchen and got a bar of chocolate from the fridge, tearing it open and cracking off the corner. I sat down on the lounge chair in the living room and watched him play his game as some white-haired boy with demon powers or some other nonsense.

"Are you mad at me or something?" he asked after killing a pack of scythe-wielding creatures.

"Why would I be mad at you?" I growled.

"Well, you sound like you're mad at me."

"This is how I always sound, jackass."

"…Point taken." He played a while longer. "Did something happen while you were out?"

I cracked off another piece of chocolate. "…Like what?"

"I dunno… You just threw me down and had your way with me out of nowhere. Guess I wasn't expecting it."

"You're my dog, remember? You'll do whatever I want, wasn't that the agreement we came to?"

"Right…" He shrugged. "I'm cool with whatever but I was just thinking maybe something frustrating happened and you were wanting to vent. A good fuck really helps with that, y'know?"

"No, I wouldn't know. But I suppose YOU do."

"Don't tell me you're jealous again. I haven't even looked at a girl since you and the Mafia made your plans for Kira, I told you that."

"I'm not-nor have I ever been-jealous! I just felt like it, so I did! Shut up already!"

"Okay… Whatever, Mello." He played for a while as I made it through a third of my candy. "Wonder if our post-coital conversations will always be this way."

"There is no always," I reminded him. "Kira's death marks the end of everything. This, us, L, the world as we know it—everything."

"…Right." His thumbs tapped away, and now and then his mouth twitched with the actions on the screen, but it seemed he'd lost all interest in the game, which was positively strange. I worked my way through the whole bar of chocolate by the time he finished the mission and it was the slowest I'd ever seen him play. Something was definitely up with him but I wasn't in the mood to care.

While the next mission was loading, it became heavily silent and somehow I could feel a tension in the air, looming above my head. "So," he finally said, lighting a new cigarette, "where were you anyway?"

There was no reason not to tell him, but for some odd reason I didn't want to, at all. So I blurted a lie instead. "Nowhere in particular. Why do you care?"

"Because I wanna know, that's all."

"I was gathering information for the case." It wasn't a complete lie.

"From where?" I crushed the wrapper foil in my hand, not liking how suddenly inquisitive he was. He hardly ever pushed or prodded me about anything, unless he was joking around. Now he finally decided to be interrogative when I didn't want him to be. I took too long to answer, because he blew out a cloud of smoke as he said, "So you were with that SPK chick again?"

I didn't at all appreciate his suddenly suspicious tone. "Yes, I was. I was on that side of town, so I decided to see what Near's been planning. I found out she'll be posing as one of that Takada woman's bodyguards, so now I'll be able to get information directly from Kira's spokesperson through her, and gain in the race."

"So why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" What was with the accusatory attitude? And why exactly didn't I just tell him from the beginning? I didn't I want to. Why, because I had almost…? But that was no business of his. It was an insignificant incident, my going there. Then why? "You never keep quiet about anything when it has to do with the case," he continued. "So why now, huh? You said you were nowhere in particular instead of just saying there. Why bother?"

"You don't need to take that insolent tone. It was nothing of consequence, so drop it."

"…So you finally fucked her, didn't you?"

I clenched my fists on the armrests of my chair. "What?" I demanded.

"I knew it," he said.

"You don't know shit," I growled.

"Why else would you go over there in the middle of the night? So why're you so tight-lipped about it? Shouldn't you be strutting around like you're hot shit? Finally lost your virginity the real way, right? And with a total babe." His voice was getting more and more brusque the longer her talked.

"I didn't fuck her!" I snapped. "And even if I did, what goddamn business is it of yours? Do you have to be posted about every single thing I do?"

"You sure as hell wanna be posted on every single thing I do!" he argued loudly. "And you make every fucking thing I do your business! So why the hell does SHE get a special exemption?"

"I'm done with this conversation!" I barked. "Just shut up and get back to your little games!"

"You know what," he said, in a more offensive tone than I'd ever heard him use, "I don't fucking feel like it." He stood and tossed his controller across the room. I heard it crack on the hardwood floor as his next level loaded. His character just stood there in front of a boss and got slaughtered. Matt took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it on the floor right after, not even halfway smoked. "I'm going out," he growled and dug around in his suitcase for a clean shirt. He threw it on, shoved his wallet in his pocket, and fastened his jeans. He snatched up his goggles and gloves on his way towards the door.

I stood up, going after him without a second thought. "What the hell are you doing? You can't go out right now! We have fucking work to get done in the morning!" He took his vest out of the closet and put it on. "Matt, did you fucking hear me?" I yelled as he slid his goggles on and grabbed the doorknob. "Matt!" I snatched his arm roughly but he fiercely shook me off, and I was too shocked to react.

"Fuck you, Mello," he snapped angrily, and then left, slamming the door so hard it rattled the hinges.

I heard his boots stomp off down the hall and I nearly ran after him on impulse, but I stopped, putting my hand on the door. Why should I care? Let him go! If he was going to speak to me that way, he could go out and get fucking hit by a bus for all I cared! But still, my first instinct had been to go after him. Why? I'd never so continuously questioned myself like this. I heard the Camaro roar to life and screech loudly out of the lot a couple minutes later.

I punched the door, not fully understanding why I wasn't more furious with him for acting so obstinate with me. I stood there for a long time and was still more…shocked. He'd never spoken to me that way before, and he'd sure as hell never flown off the handle about anything. Why had he snapped like that for the first time? Just because I'd been with Halle? Was there a trigger to his rage I was missing? Was this another human puzzle piece I didn't have? I hated being so slow on the uptake but what other explanation could there be?

I shook my head. There was absolutely no reason why I should care, so I decided to brush it off. I locked the door back and went into the bathroom, stripping and getting in the shower. I stood under the hot water for a long while before I washed myself. I scrubbed the smell of smoke off my skin and hair before I got out and dried off. I decided to go ahead and get some sleep while it was quiet, so I shut the television off and went to bed, setting my phone alarm so I could wake up and get back to work.


	19. Chapter 18

**+Part 18+**

**December 12, 2009**

**11:36 a.m.**

I woke and got dressed, walking out into the living room and expecting to see him there, passed out on the couch. He wasn't. He wasn't in the apartment at all. He was still out. No matter. I would be able to concentrate better when he wasn't blaring the television and stuffing his face. I spent the entire day going over my research. With Halle acting as Takada's bodyguard, I might have a new angle to play. I'd have to keep a closer eye on them from now own. If everything worked out, I would be closer to Kira than Near could ever dream.

It was night by the time I looked up to notice. Obviously, he still wasn't back. What the hell was he doing? I checked my phone, but he hadn't called. It was very likely he could be out doing something stupid, even though I'd explicitly warned him time after time. With Kira so close by, and his worshippers and agents lurking everywhere in droves, I couldn't afford to leave Matt idle for much longer.

I speed-dialed his number, listening to it ring. It did so five times and then went to his voicemail: "Pwning some n00bs." I frowned and called him again, but he didn't pick up that time either. I exhaled irritably and grabbed my hooded jacket, since I couldn't walk around at night with sunglasses on and not look conspicuous, throwing it on as I walked out the door.

**December 12, 2009**

**10:45 p.m.**

I took a walk around the block, trying to think of somewhere he might go. I didn't want to stay so out in the open for too long, but it turns out I didn't have to walk especially far. It was maybe six blocks down and one over where I spotted the red Muscle Car parked on the street. I looked over, exasperated but not surprised to see it was parked in front of a three-story video arcade.

I sighed and walked inside, immediately being assaulted with the smashing, flashing, crashing, shots, dings, taps, and explosions of dozens and dozens of video game machines. They were accompanied by scores of voices either cheering, yelling, complaining, or boasting. I clenched my teeth from the instantaneous headache and began to walk around, looking for him. The first floor seemed to be mostly for children's ticket-earning games, where you could play to win prizes. There was a girl behind the prize counter waiting on some kids. I was certain Matt wasn't down here with the simplistic kiddy machines, so I walked up the stairs to the second floor, seeing the crowd here dispersed amongst fighting, shooting, horror, and adventure arcade games. I began to look around for him again, less wary of being observed.

I passed person after person, all of them tapping away and jerking their joysticks and shooting their brightly colored plastic guns. I didn't think I would ever understand his fascination with this world, but I knew there were many things he didn't understand about me either. Still, we had worked together for this long, and we had been the closest of friends as children, all in spite of our numerous drastic differences. Somehow, we'd come to cross even that final line, after so many years apart. For some reason he'd shattered our boundaries, and for some reason I'd let him in.

It hit me then, and I tried to write it off or deny it, but it seemed too entirely possible. Was he actually angered by the fact that I'd gone to see Halle last night…? Was his overblown reaction—the first true appearance of emotion I'd ever seen him show—the product of petty jealousy? Did I really believe he was that shallow? Then again, he was far more ordinary than me, in a sense that he was much more…human. He was cold and robotic but he was definitely more receptive to common emotion than me or Near. I'd always felt that was a weakness to have but seeing it in him, it seemed something much more…affecting.

Perhaps it ran even deeper than mere jealousy. Was it possible that he'd always been frustrated with me for lacking the qualities that would help me relate to him, and I'd just always taken his nonchalance for granted? Maybe I'd always counted on his calm exterior to balance my rage? Maybe I'd underestimated his strength of will all this time? Was this incident the last straw I'd finally broken after twelve years? If so, could it be repaired? Could I figure out how?

I saw him in the far corner, his back to me, currently slamming away at the buttons of Street Fighter II. He had an extra-large soft drink in an obnoxiously colored plastic cup sitting on the control panel next to him, along with a half-eaten plate of nachos. He was completely occupied and probably wouldn't even notice if a bomb dropped on him. I decided to try a less direct approach, lest I drive him away again. I wasn't used to needing finesse when it came to him, just blunt orders, but that hadn't worked so well last night, and above all things I demand success.

I thought of an idea and went to the token machine to put a bill in. I grabbed the handful of gold coins and went back over to him. I stuck two tokens in the machine he was playing on and hit the button to join the game. I chose a player and now we were fighting each other. He didn't even glance over, probably figuring I was some punk kid he could take out in a split second. When he saw I was holding my own, he looked and saw me there. He didn't say a word, he just turned back to the screen and continued to fling combo after combo at me. I tapped the buttons and wiggled the joystick, fighting back, managing to damage him, but he inevitably defeated me.

It displayed Player 1 as the winner and then told me to insert more coins. I did and he beat me again. I was out of tokens now and his character was just standing there in a fighting stance, waiting. Matt sighed and looked finally at me. I couldn't see his eyes behind the glare on his goggles. He also had his vest fastened, which hid the bottom half of his face. At least he was trying to conceal himself, as I'd instructed. We just stared at each other for a few moments. I'm sure I was about to scold him, but he picked up his food and then walked away before I could.

So he was still upset. I guess I could understand it a little more now. I was a hard man to live with and he'd been living with me longer than anyone else in the world could ever endure. It really was only a matter of time before he got fed up and took off. I knew for certain now that I'd taken him for granted, used him too harshly, treated him too callously, especially considering how readily he gave me his aid. He'd entrusted me with his life and I was perfectly willing to throw it away. But that was my nature and I'd never stopped this long to consider anyone else before. Especially Matt. I'd always been used to him complying with my every order and never questioning, truly like a dog. He was the only living person who ever helped me out of a genuine desire to do so. He stayed with me, at risk, not because of my threats but by his own choice. I didn't NEED to intimidate or threaten him even though I often did. Of course, it never seemed to have any affect on him. Nothing had, until now.

Was he that sensitive regarding me, when nothing else could ever make him feel anything? Why? What did that mean? What did I think about it? He always said he didn't mind taking my orders like a dog but when it came down to it, even dogs lashed out at their masters' betrayal. And I realized now that in his eyes I really had betrayed him.

He had moved to a racing game called Initial D and sat in the plastic bucket seat in front of the screen. He set his food down on the empty seat next to him, stuffing nachos in his mouth with one hand while he inserted his tokens into the machine with the other. I walked over, standing next to it as the game started. He shifted gears and steered with the wheel almost exactly like a real car. I watched him screech around tight turns, flying past the car he was racing by hitting the breaks and skidding on his tires just like the drifters he liked to watch on TV.

"Thought you didn't feel like playing games anymore," I remarked, just to say something to break his silence.

"…That didn't last long," he replied after a few moments.

"Figures." I watched him a little while longer. "Listen…" I began, not entirely sure what I was going to say.

"No, Mello, look," he said, jerking the steering wheel and driving himself into the side of a building. He took his foot off the gas pedal and sighed again, shaking his head. "I'm just gonna tell you straight even though you hate it when anyone opposes you, okay? I think you're making a big fucking mistake trusting that chick. It's just not like you to depend so much on someone else's word. You've never based your plans on someone else's testimony without proof. You're smarter than that. I know you and I know you wouldn't notice, but you've been acting weird ever since you started working with her. I get it, okay, totally. She's really fucking hot and you've pretty much avoided girls since we were seven. You've never had patience for them. I don't know how much you've been around women since you left the House, but I'm guessing it's not a whole lot, not with the way you are. Anyone in your position would get caught up in her, especially when you're on a road this dangerous, with one foot in the grave every day. You've probably been thinking, 'what the hell, I might as well use her while I can.' Who wouldn't? But you need to cool your jets and snap out of it. She's going to screw you over if you keep trusting her so much. I know you don't care if you die as long as Kira goes down with you, but maybe I fucking do. Maybe I really fucking give a damn, okay? And I'd rather you go down fighting than go down because of some bitch."

This was only the second time he'd said so much at once without being led or coerced. And I was surprised that the first thing he said to me wasn't to berate me or vent his frustration or complain, but to tell me something to help me with the case. Even now, even after he'd stormed off in a rage, he wasn't being selfish. I just didn't understand how he could be this way, and how we could work together so effectively when we were such opposites. He'd mentioned it before, but never posed an explanation. I wasn't sure one existed. Was this one more thing better left unquestioned?

He exhaled and picked up his soda, beginning to slurp from his straw. "Forget it," he mumbled, slurping again and putting his hand back on the wheel. He began to correct his driver and start playing again, but I grabbed the wheel and jerked it, crashing him into a guardrail. "Hey," he started, but I ripped open the top fastener of his vest to uncover his face and leaned down to shut him up with my mouth. He tasted like nacho cheese and orange soda in addition to the gritty smoke, which wasn't a good combination, but I overlooked it. When I pulled away he was staring at me, gaping.

"You're right," I said, for the first time in my entire life.

"Uh… Huh? I'm WHAT? I'm RIGHT?"

"Yes. There's no longer any reason for me to see her in person. I can call her for updates because she's my only insider, but everything she tells me needs to be confirmed personally and cross-examined. I never trusted her, but I did allow myself to become preoccupied with her. I should've been more cautious than that; it's not like me."

"Uh, yeah, well…" He set his drink down and seemed to ponder something for a second. "…So you really didn't fuck her?"

"No, but not for her lack of trying."

"…Slut," he grumbled.

"Maybe, but I allowed it." He looked up at me, his expression still somewhat pouting. "She's honest with me on some level but I don't know for certain how deep it goes, so I can't trust her. Especially considering how long she's been working with Near. It's best to keep my distance this late in the game. I never should have lost sight of the goal. I'm not sure what I was thinking, but maybe you know that better than I do, for once."

He looked away and sighed again. "If you went off and fucked someone other than me after keeping me locked up all this time…I would've gotten seriously pissed, Mello. I mean, I know this is a short-term thing and all, but…like I said, I waited long enough and now that things are this way I really don't feel like sharing."

"Sharing?"

"Yeah. And now I know how it feels to think I'm being substituted, too."

"Substituted?" I had mentioned that once before, when I accused him of substituting me in the place of the women he couldn't have. So that's what it was? He'd felt the exact same way? "I wasn't substituting, Matt," I told him. "No one else could be as valuable to me in this case as you."

He poked out his bottom lip. "Really?"

"Yes. Do you honestly think there's anyone who could take over your place in this mission? You're the only one I can rely on not to fail or betray me. Near and Kira have the advantage and I'm treading on thin ice, so you are indispensible to me." I'd never told him anything like this before. It was the truth, but that wasn't the point.

"…Hmm." He looked away a second and then back. He took his hand off the steering wheel and grabbed me, pulling me down onto his lap and kissing me again. He held us there for a long time and even though I didn't like the fact that we were being intimate in public, I let him. I'd kissed him first anyway, God knows why.

When he pulled away I frowned at him, though. He was smiling as if to spite me. "So, I'm the better kisser, right?"

"Let go," I demanded.

"What if I don't feel like it?"

"Too bad. We need to get going. I need to talk through the case with you."

"C'mon, after you kissed me for the first time since we were twelve? No way."

"We were just kids then and you dared me I wouldn't."

"I know and it worked out exactly the way I planned." I frowned harder at him but he smirked. "We could stop by the bathroom before we leave, have a quick fuck."

I sneered in disgust. "In a public bathroom?" I grabbed him by the hair. "How many times have I told you to be discreet outside? Especially now that we're on Kira's home turf. This has to be the hundredth time."

"Yeah, yeah, I know… I just came here to blow off steam. Didn't wanna go too far so I stuck around the neighborhood." He smiled for some reason. "I like when you grab my hair and pull it like that."

I shoved off of him with my lip curling in disgust and stood, and right when I did I felt a large hand grab at my backside. I thought instantly that it was him, but I heard a smug Japanese voice say, "Nice ass, sweetheart," in passing so I looked to see a trio of guys snickering over their shoulders at me as they walked by.

"What the fuck?" I growled, and was about to go adamantly correct them, but decided it wasn't a wise idea to make a scene in such a public place when I'd just warned Matt about the same thing. I hissed through my teeth and turned back to Matt, but he was gone.

I looked over in alarm to find him walking towards the three guys. "Shit," was all I could think to say. He wouldn't really…? But he was already going.

The guys were still laughing, and they watched Matt come up to them, hands in his vest pockets, and laughed harder. "Look, the boyfriend didn't like my little compliment," the first guy remarked. "What are you gonna do, foreigner?"

He didn't get a chance to laugh before Matt punched him across the jaw. His head lolled a minute and then he lurched forward in outrage with his two friends following. They all swung punches, but Matt was stunningly evasive in his movements, dodging and blocking. He landed a few punches, catching them off-guard with his ambidextrous abilities, but he caught a couple blows to the face and stumbled back. One of them grabbed him from behind while the other two moved in, so Matt reared back and hurled his boots forward into the closest guy's chest. He staggered back, gasping and coughing, and Matt slung his foot upward against the next guy's chin, forcing him to hack up a tooth. He elbowed the guy who was holding him in the ribs, finally forcing him to let go, and then he turned and clocked him in the face, making his knees buckle under him. Matt turned back to the other two, kicking the one he'd knocked the air out of across the head, knocking him out. The last one left, the one who'd grabbed me and then lost a tooth, looked up at Matt as he spat up blood.

"Relax, man! Stop! I'm sorry!" Matt slugged him one last time, forcing him to slump back against the wall. When all three guys were on the floor bleeding and unconscious, he stood in the middle of them and rolled his shoulder joints like he was proud of his work. A crowd had gathered by now, so I pulled my hood low over my face and rushed to him, keeping my head down.

I snatched him by the arm, jerking him to face me. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I hissed, seeing that he had blood oozing out of his nose. "You goddamned idiot! You can't afford to do shit like this in public!" I wiped some of the blood off with my jacket cuff to prevent it from dripping on the floor, but it just kept coming. I scoffed and he pressed his sleeve to his nose, soaking it with blood. I dragged him through the crowd back to the Initial D game. I picked up his food, trashing the nachos on our way down the stairs but hanging onto the cup. "You're going to leave your fucking DNA everywhere, genius!"

"At least I made sure there weren't any security cameras here," he mentioned through his clogging nose.

"No, but now that you've made a scene those perverted bastards will call the cops and the cops will get a description from the crowd. They'll have an idea what you look like and then they'll inquire around and figure out you weren't alone. Somebody might've noticed something about me that Kira could recognize and the next thing you know, Kira knows I'm here and he knows I have an accomplice. He'll know what to look for and then we're both fucking dead!"

"Okay, okay, I get it, I'm sorry…" I growled and continued to drag him through the arcade and out the door. I dug around in his vest pockets until I found the car keys, practically shoving him into the passenger seat of the Camaro. I got into the driver's seat and sped off, doubling around the block and going the long way so nobody could guess what direction we were heading. "I guess I still had some shit to vent," he said on the way.

"Apparently."

We returned to the apartment and he went into the bathroom, still stanching his bleeding with his shirtsleeve. I followed, removing my jacket and seeing the bloodstain on the cuff. I tossed it over the tub and waited as he removed his vest and gloves, which were spattered with blood, both his and the guys' he beat up. His goggles came next and then he turned on the water in the sink and washed the blood off his face, but his nostrils were still bleeding steadily. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a washrag, soaking it in cool water and slapping it over his nose for him. He grabbed it and held it there, and I noticed he was also bleeding from a cut over his cheekbone.

"Damn it, you're hopeless. If you couldn't avoid getting beat to hell you shouldn't have started an uneven fight." I pushed him down onto the lid of the toilet and grabbed rubbing alcohol and another rag.

"I didn't start anything," he griped, still pressing the wet cloth over his nostrils. "They're the ones who copped a feel. And in case you don't remember, I kicked their asses."

I scoffed as I sat on the edge of the tub and poured some alcohol onto the fresh rag. I dabbed it against the cut on his cheek. He flinched. "I could've taken care of them myself easily but I exercised a little restraint given the situation, which is what you SHOULD have done."

"Yeah, yeah, but I was already pissed off and they just pissed me off worse…"

"I thought I was the one with the short temper," I said, dabbing the wound on his cheek clean. "Here you are flying off the handle more than once in less than 48 hours."

"…Never said I was perfect."

"NOBODY would say that." I grabbed a square of gauze and shoved it over his cut, taping it in place. He removed the cloth from his nose and it looked like it finally stopped gushing blood. I pinched it a little.

"Ow!" he groaned.

"At least you didn't get it broken." I finally noticed I'd been thoughtlessly tending to his injuries. I'd never done anything like that, not even as a child, and now I'd just done it automatically, my brain hardly controlling my functions. I think he noticed it too because he looked at the way I was staring, his eyes deepening.

"Mello," he said, as I stood up with the rags and began to wash them off in the sink. I watched his blood dilute into streaks of orange and spiral down the drain. The smell of it suddenly seemed so thick. "Mello," he said again, "I was thinking…"

"I can only take so much of you thinking," I snapped, trying to shake off my own discomfort.

"No, I mean, while I was out…I was actually thinking maybe…" He hesitated. I waited. "Maybe we could just forget this whole Kira thing."

I wrung out the rags and stared at my slightly perturbed reflection in the mirror. "What are you talking about?"

"We could just ditch it, Mello. You know, say to hell with Kira and go into business together. I came to America because it sounded like fun and I've just been moving from whatever city to whatever city for my heists with no real plan. But if we team up we can actually develop a real strategy, you know? We can expand across the whole world, ripping off anybody we want, anywhere we want, and stay completely under the radar. Kira will never catch us that way and then we can just spend our money however we want. Forget all this bullshit and maybe think about how we can make a LIVING instead of thinking about how we can SURVIVE past tomorrow." He stood up and moved next to me. "What do you think?"

I looked at his reflection in the mirror next to mine, his earnest expression, his wounded flesh, his faint freckles I'd refused to notice. I leaned my hands on the edge of the sink, not needing to contemplate, but also not eager to speak my mind for once.

"I can't," I told him.

"I know taking down Kira means a lot to you, Mello, but with the odds stacked the way they are I just don't think it can work anymore, not with just the two of us. We don't have the manpower or the resources, but Near does. If we disappear while we can there's no doubt Near will take down Kira. He'll get what he deserves for killing L either way, so why not leave it to someone else? Fuck Kira, fuck Near, they can HAVE each other! Let's just get the fuck out of here—out of sight, out of mind!"

"I can't, Matt!" I barked, turning swiftly towards him. "You should know that I can't just throw away everything I've done, everything I've sacrificed until now! I can't abandon this—I never could! As long as Near's after him then I have to make sure I get there first! If I don't beat Near to Kira…if I don't avenge L…then-then my whole fucking life will have been meaningless!"

He looked down at me, his brow creased, the bruises around his injuries beginning to darken with color. "Meaningless, huh?" he remarked, and then he shook his head. "Yeah well, welcome to the club, we have shitty t-shirts." He sighed steeply, seeming to calm himself. "…Let's get back to work then." He checked his phone.

"Matt…"

"Oh, hey," he said suddenly, turning back. "Look what time it is."

"So?" I still wasn't sure what had just transpired between us, but he already seemed to be over it somehow even as I stood there dumbfounded.

"Shit, Mello, it's your Birthday," he said when I didn't realize. I blinked and realized that if it was now past midnight it was indeed the 13th. He actually remembered? I'd been too busy to give it a second thought.

"So it is," I grumbled. "So what?"

"I dunno… Happy Birthday, I guess."

"It's not important. Like you said, let's get back to work."

He sighed. "Okay, okay…" He scratched his head and then turned on the sink, running the water so he could start to rinse the blood from his vest and gloves. I watched him, unsure, unsettled, until I finally drifted away from his silence.

**December 13, 2009**

**12:09 p.m.**

"Let's go out or something," Matt suggested by the time I managed to pry him off the couch and into the waking world the next afternoon.

"What?" I demanded, watching him shuffle around the kitchen in search of food.

"Y'know, for your Birthday. We can go someplace."

I rubbed my eyelids. "I thought I finally got it through your head last night that we can't be trotting around out in the open all the time!"

"We won't be out in the open," he protested, shoveling through the barren fridge like a bear out of hibernation. "We'll stay on the outskirts of town, under the radar, and keep to ourselves. How likely is it that you'll happen to be spotted by someone connected with Kira? This is Tokyo—about 30 billion people live here."

"The risk is too high at this stage in the game. Need I remind you that Kira's proxy has Shinigami Eyes, not to mention his own Shinigami following him around everywhere?"

"C'mon, let's at least get something to eat," he insisted, slamming the fridge and turning back to me with a hopeful expression. It was as if he never took a single damn thing I said seriously. Life really was a game to him. So then…what was all that about last night?

I looked at the time, sighed, and glared at him. "Fine," I snapped.

He grinned and went over to grab a fresh change of clothes. I waited while he dressed, watching TV for anything new. He came out in a green and black striped shirt and dark jeans, his wallet chain on his belt and his boots on his feet. "So where you wanna go?"

"You're the one who wants to go somewhere."

"Yeah, but it's your Birthday."

I grimaced. "I told you to forget about that. It's not important."

"Why're you so touchy about it being your Birthday, man? You're finally out of the teens. The big 2-0."

"I'm not touchy. It's of no consequence to the task at hand. I wish you'd focus on the important things."

"Your Birthday isn't important?"

"Of course not."

"Even though it might be your last one?" I stopped and looked at him. "Mine's not for another whole month and a half, so relax. Be happy you made it this far."

"If it will shut you up, then fine."

Turning another year older had never had any personal merit for me, since I never held things like age or size in any esteem. But he was potentially right—this could very well be my last Birthday. Going head to head with Kira could force a man to consider his mortality, but not me. I suppose, though, that given life spans carried a lot of weight in relation to the Death Notes, then the number of years since my birth could prove to be more important than I'd ever considered. My face and name defined my entire life, as short as it had been so far, and I was risking my miniscule years every single day. So maybe reaching 20 was a cause for slight reverence after all, but not nearly as much as Matt seemed to be insisting upon.

"So? What do you feel like?" he asked.

"Irritated."

He fixed his shaggy hair with his fingers. "What do you feel like EATING?"

"It doesn't matter to me."

He blew air through his lips. "You're impossible to please."

"You should know that by now."

He came up behind me where I sat in my chair and leaned his arms on the back. He peered down at me. "Y'know, if you don't feel like food we could just stay in bed to celebrate."

I frowned up at him as a wonderful idea passed over me. "Suddenly I'm starving for sushi."

"Shit, Mello, I hate sushi," he complained.

"Exactly." I got out of the chair and grabbed my leather jacket and sunglasses, putting them on.

"You suck," he mumbled, and put on his gloves and goggles.

"You said it was my choice." I slid my gun into my inner jacket. He fastened his vest and snatched the car keys, heading for the door. "Nice try," I said, jabbing my arm in front of him and holding my hand palm-up. "Keys."

His shoulders slumped. "C'mon, Mello, let me drive."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because…it's your day, and I'm the one dragging you out, and I'm the one treating you, so you might as well kick back and relax for a change. Let me handle things."

"I've seen the way YOU handle things," I remarked, still holding my hand up. He frowned, still not handing them over. We stared at each other and just when I saw his shoulders heave to relent I sighed gruffly and snatched my hand back. "Fine, you drive—but keep it under the speed limit. If we get pulled over again you're in big trouble."

"Ooh, big trouble," he remarked, tossing the keys up and catching them. "Sounds fun." He tossed them up and caught them again.

"Does everything sound like a dirty joke to you?" I sneered, shoving past him out the door.

He followed me. "Is that a trick question?"

"No. Wait five minutes before you come down." I saw him put a cigarette in his mouth before I headed for the stairs, and he was puffing away at it by the time he strolled out the back door of the building. I was leaning against the passenger door of the car, tapping my foot impatiently with my arms crossed.

"Try to look a little more thrilled," he shot sarcastically, unlocking the doors. I yanked mine open and got in, flopping down into the leather bucket seat and propping one foot up on the dashboard. He stuck the key in the ignition as he rolled down the window to let his smoke drift out. "…We don't have to go," he mentioned.

"We're going," I replied stiffly. "Drive." He heaved a smoke-ridden sigh and started the car, putting it in gear. He revved it a little, sending black exhaust gushing into the air behind us. I scoffed loudly and he rolled his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other with the tip of his tongue.

"So I'll work on the engine a little more. No big deal." He let off the clutch and hit the gas, backing out of the aluminum garage and out of the lot onto the street. We cruised through the outskirts of Tokyo for a while, glancing around for somewhere to stop and eat. We came across a sushi bar soon enough and he parked, the noise of the vehicle making every customer glance up, and once they saw the large red American car they stared. I kept my head low and bared my teeth a little as he stepped out, locking it behind us.

"This car was a bad idea," I said to him.

"Hey, a '69 Camaro is NEVER a bad idea," he retorted. "Live a little, dude. You're 20 now so act like you're happy to be here. Pretend we're just tourists who rented an amazing car for the hell of it."

I growled at him but he ignored it. We made it to the door and he stopped to lean against the side and finish his cigarette. Once he did, he deposited the butt in the disposal container outside the entrance and then we went in. We still got looks, though not as noticeably now that we were inside the restaurant. A young woman seated us near the windows, but I shook my head and told her we wanted a booth near the back of the place. She looked flustered a second, I suppose because I spoke such good Japanese and was obviously not Asian. But she complied and led us to the booth nearest the kitchen, away from the front windows.

She took our drink orders. I got tea and Matt got beer. She brought out our glasses and then told us to help ourselves. Matt unfastened the first few clasps of his vest, folding the high collar down from his chin, and then browsed the bar for something he could possibly eat. He settled for a tower of rice and any kind of food that wasn't sushi. He had mostly pork dumplings and steak rolls by the time we went to sit back down. We grabbed our chopsticks and ate, he of course not pausing to breathe in-between scooping gobs into his maw. He went through the first beer quickly and asked for another.

"Matt," I said, after chewing and swallowing my wasabi-covered sashimi.

"Muh?" he mumbled, spewing a little rice from his mouth.

"Were you really serious about what you said last night?" These sudden compulsions involving him were really becoming bothersome. Usually I was easily reserved, but lately…he compelled me to act and speak more openly. I suppose it was because he insisted on doing so, and I didn't like being lesser than him in any manner.

He gulped hard and scratched his head briefly. "About telling you Happy Birthday…?"

"NO," I snapped. "About…" I lowered my voice, "forgetting Kira."

"Oh, that." He went back to his food, shrugging. "I guess so, but it doesn't matter now."

"How could you forget something like this?" I insisted. "I know you don't particularly care about Kira and I know you could operate just fine with him in charge, but wouldn't you feel…incomplete?"

"Incomplete?"

"Yeah. You know, because of L. That kid murdered him just to get him out of the way. He used L's own taskforce against him and none of them were smart enough to realize it. L was cornered with his hands tied. He had no way to act how he wanted. Remember, he always told us to operate only in the way that worked best for us, and to hell with anybody else. But he couldn't do that while working openly with police officers. He showed his face for the first time, put his life on the line for the first time, and in the end he was cheated. His death was a complete waste. I won't be satisfied until he's avenged. I won't be satisfied for a single second until Near and Kira are both crushed under my boots, begging for mercy they aren't going to receive."

"Yeah, I know. You're right, and that's part of the reason I'm here, but…like I said, if you hadn't been the one asking I wouldn't bother to stick my own neck out. L said work in our own way and my way is to stay out of things. I guess I was happy you needed my help, no matter what it was for. I wasn't expecting to end up living with you again but it ended up not being too bad. It hasn't been the same as it was at the House but I've gotten used to it without getting bored. If I could just hang on to that I could forget Kira. Like I said…I'm selfish, and I look out for ME first. Charging valiantly after L's killer isn't my style. I'm no hero and I don't really wanna be a martyr either, but in the end, with the way things are going…I don't mind." He shrugged again. "Like I said, it doesn't matter. You can't forget it, so that's how it is. Don't need to think about it anymore." He shoveled food in his mouth again.

I wasn't sure how to respond, so I didn't. He finished off another beer and got a soda next. I still hadn't finished my first glass of tea. He got up for seconds and I still had some nigiri and a dragon roll left. I watched him shuffle over to the bar and load another plate full. There was a young woman dressed like a Gothic baby doll in the line right in front of him. She was chatting with her fellow Lolita friend next to her, and didn't notice Matt picking through the food. She turned abruptly and smacked into him, managing to save her plate but not her purse. It hit the floor and spilled all over.

She gasped and set her food down, bowing to him apologetically. He waved his hand dismissively and bent down at the same time she did, and their heads knocked together. They both flinched and then she giggled. He smiled and rubbed his head, and together they collected her belongings and replaced them in her lacey coffin-shaped purse. They stood and she bowed again, but he just shrugged it off again. I watched in disbelief as they commenced chatting for a couple minutes. She pointed to his eyes and smiled, and I could tell she was saying something of a compliment. He tapped the edges of his goggles and shook his head, smiling with his reply. After another minute or so, he motioned to his food and she nodded. She waved and then picked up her plate and headed back to her table with her friend.

Matt returned with his plate and sat down, starting to stuff his face again. I stared at him, sending him all the lethal condemnations I could through my eyes, but it still took him a few moments to notice. "What?"

"Do you speak English?"

"Huh?" He blinked.

"Do the words 'low profile' not register in your diminished brain?"

"…Oh, that? She dropped her purse. What'd you want me to do, call her a clumsy bitch and walk off?"

"No, but you could've been a little more unassuming."

"She started a conversation. I wasn't gonna tell her to fuck off and flip her the bird."

"And would you have acted the same way if she was a 40-year-old businessman?"

"…If she was a 40-year-old businessman she wouldn't have a purse to drop," he rationalized.

"The point I'm trying to make is that you can't keep letting your guard down around women!"

"Hey," he remarked, "look who's talking." I gritted my teeth and glared wider at him. "Yeah, do I really need to remind you, Mr. Inconspicuous? At least I flirt with complete strangers, not halfway get busy with Near's lapdog."

"…Go to hell," I hissed, hating that he was correct.

He shrugged and we continued eating. When we were done, he paid the check at the counter and then we headed outside. He paused to slide a fresh cigarette out of his pack and place it in his lips. He'd just lit it when the Gothic Lolita girls came outside. The one he'd been speaking to smiled and immediately came clomping over in her platform shoes.

"Hi again!" she exclaimed in a very high-pitched voice.

"Hey," he replied. I moved to lean against the building, trying not to be noticed.

"Oh, I didn't introduce you to my friend before," she said, and the other girl came up and bowed. "This is Takashiro Kasumi."

"Hello!" she said happily.

"Nice to meet you," he replied.

"Hey, actually, I never got your name," the first girl realized.

I twitched, but Matt exhaled smoke and said, "Tomas Saunders."

"So, are you American?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing in Japan?"

"Just visiting."

"Really? But your Japanese is so good!"

"Yeah. I'm a fast learner."

She giggled and took a pack of cigarettes from her purse. Her friend did the same. "Can we borrow a light?"

"Sure." He took out his lighter and flicked the flame to life, lighting both their cigarettes for them. They puffed and then exhaled. He was halfway through his and glanced over his shoulder at me. "Well, I need to get going. Places to be."

"Oh, hey, why don't you come visit our club sometime? It'll be fun." She dug around in her purse and took out a flyer. "We work at the bar. I'll give you a free drink for being so nice." He grabbed the pink piece of paper and glanced over it, smiling.

"I'll see if I can make the time."

"Great! Just tell them Kurosaki Megumi sent you!" She winked and then her and her friend waved. "See you later, Tomas-san!"

"Later, girls." He waved and then turned around and we headed for the car. He unlocked my side and then walked back around to his.

"Hey, Tomas-san!" Megumi called. Matt looked up curiously. "HOT RIDE!" she squealed. Her friend shoved her and they giggled loudly. Matt chuckled and gave a two-fingered salute before he got in and started it up. We pulled onto the street with me glaring at him the whole way.

When he finally noticed he plucked the cigarette from his mouth. "What? You saw what happened. They came up to me."

"You're pitiful," I sneered. "If Kira were an attractive young girl you'd be defenseless."

He shrugged. "You wouldn't know, but there's just something about girls, Mello."

"Something?"

"Yeah. There's just something…comfortable about being with a girl," he explained. "Like it fits right at first. It never lasts long, but when it starts out it's nice."

"You're shameless."

"Eh." He didn't turn off where I expected him to.

"Where are we going?"

"You're out of chocolate, right?"

"…Yes," I answered suspiciously.

"They have these huge chocolate shops here," he informed me. "Figured we could give one a look. Japanese are great with chocolate when they wanna be."

I sighed. "Whatever, Matt."

We drove around until we found a novelty chocolate shop called "Kawaii Choco Neko," with piles of every kind of chocolate imaginable filling the window displays. He elbowed me as we got out of the car and put out his cigarette before we went in. The little bell on the door jingled and instantly a girl in a maid uniform with cat ears bounded up to us.

"Welcome!" she exclaimed, posing like a cat. "How can I help you today?" Matt snickered under his breath and elbowed me again, so I elbowed him back harder.

"We're just looking," he told her as he massaged his bruised ribs.

"Okay! Just let me know if you need anything!" And then she meowed and skipped away. Matt snickered again when I growled at him, unable to contain himself.

"You think this is so fucking hilarious, don't you?" I demanded angrily.

"Oh, yeah," he remarked. When he finally caught his breath, he glanced around. There were displays all over the place, made from stacks of chocolate packages. Girls in maid outfits with cat ears handed out free samples to customers. There were all kinds of ad posters tacked across the walls and animated videos about chocolate playing on the televisions accompanied by obnoxious chanting songs. I was disgusted by the atmosphere, but was undeniably brought to a pause by the blissful aroma of the place. I shut my eyes for a second and inhaled steeply, feeling my body relax itself.

Matt spotted the shopping bags near him and picked one up, seeing that it was pink and ruffled. He grinned over his shoulder at me. "YOU'RE carrying that," I hissed.

"Fine, fine." I jammed my hands in my pockets and followed him as he began to browse the shelves. He stopped before a display and pointed. "Hey, they got your favorite brand here," he told me. My particular brand was a very rare, very expensive dark chocolate bar made only in Northern Europe, but they did indeed have a row of it in boxes. He grabbed four and dumped them in the basket. "What else?"

I sighed. "I don't know…"

"Hey, check it out," he said, going over to another display. "This chocolate is shaped like sushi." There were plastic cases full of replica sushi, made of different types and colors of chocolate. He shrugged and dumped a case in the basket. He looked around some more, seeing a section for beverages. "Chocolate soda," he commented, and then threw some in the basket, followed by chocolate-flavored instant coffee. He also loaded it full of variety packs of bars with different fillings, like peppermint, raspberry, mango, plum, and other odd flavors.

"How much shit are you going to buy?" I asked.

"What? Not enjoying yourself?" I glared at him, glanced at the Neko Maid waving truffles in my face, and then glared back at him again. He shrugged. "If you'd pick something maybe I'd be satisfied."

I heaved out a chest full of air and crossed my arms over my chest. "I can't believe I keep giving in to you like this," I griped.

"Me either but it's pretty nice. I keep expecting you to break my jaw."

"I wouldn't be that nice," I scoffed, but he just stood there waiting expectantly. I finally snatched the truffle from the annoying girl next to me and bit into it savagely as I turned away to look around.

He walked with me, now and then pointing things out with a brief, amused chuckle. "Hey, look, chocolate WATER. Ha, what the hell." And then a few minutes later, "Choco-mint tea. You like tea. How about that?"

"Fine." He tossed it in. A sample girl handed him a chocolate lollipop as we passed and he took it and popped it in his mouth. He sucked it loudly as we browsed, and I wasn't sure how he could be enjoying himself so well. After all, I was the one the chocolate fixation. His most severe vice was nicotine, which was normal enough. Speaking of which, he suddenly bolted forward and reached onto a shelf in the back, nearly running me over to get at it.

"Dude, chocolate-flavored cigarettes?" he announced, speaking through the lollipop in is mouth. "No way." He glanced over the label. "They look German. Epic." He snatched up an entire carton's worth and stowed them. I shook my head and rubbed my eyelids beneath my sunglasses. "C'mon, maybe the smell won't bother you as much now, huh?"

"You're an imbecile."

He shrugged and looked down in the basket. "Looks like we got enough stuff, huh?"

"I would say so." Considering it was stuffed near to overflowing.

"Okay." He grabbed another free sample as we walked up to the counter, this time a palm-sized cake dipped in a hard shell of white chocolate. He held the lollipop in one hand as he took a bite of the cake and licked his lips, and then he handed the other half to me. "It's good," he said as he chewed. I hesitated before I took it and ate it. It was wonderful, but I didn't say anything. "Shit, almost forgot," he said, and went over to a shelf full from end-to-end with different types of a snack called Pocky. "Can't leave without the dessert kind…that has orange mixed in… Found it." He grabbed a couple boxes. "They have dark chocolate kind. Want some?"

"Fine." He hauled the piles of confections up to the checkout counter and the girl there clapped her hands and began to eagerly ring it all up.

"Oh, hey, could I get some of these things?" he asked, holding up the lollipop he'd been sucking on.

"Sure!" she said happily, and retrieved a pack for him.

"Thanks."

"So, are you stocking up since we're having a Christmas sale?"

"No, not really."

I noticed her glance at me and then she smiled bigger. "Ohhh, so it's an early Valentine's Day run?" She giggled. "Aren't you two cute! Are you on vacation? Or maybe your honeymoon?"

Matt slapped his fist to him mouth to stifle his laughter as I seared with resentment. I was tempted to accost the idiot girl but he grabbed my arm and shook his head. "We're just tourists," Matt blurted while withholding his snickers.

"Oh, I see. I hope you're having fun!"

"I definitely am," he told her, and I planned to beat him to a bloody pulp once we got back to the apartment.

"Oh, since you're spending over 10,000 yen, you get a free gift!" She showed him a large pink box of what looked like panda shaped cookies filled with fudge.

"Cool," he remarked. "Thanks."

She wrapped up everything in shiny tissue paper and then packed them in a couple pink shopping bags with handles. Matt paid her in cash and she handed over the sacks. He grabbed them and I saw the bags had cat ears on them. I grimaced as we headed back to the car and he piled everything in the backseat, but not before taking out a pack of his new cigarettes. He sat in the driver's seat and unwrapped them, tapping the box on his palm for a few seconds before he popped it open and inhaled.

"Pwnage," he remarked, and I wasn't sure he was speaking English at first. He slid one out and I could see that they were wrapped in black paper from filter to tip. He slipped it in his mouth and jammed down the cigarette lighter in the dash panel as he started the car. He pulled out onto the street and the lighter popped out, so he pressed it to the end of his cig and inhaled, then blew out the silvery cloud. The car was immediately filled with a unique blend of sweet chocolate and gritty smoke. "Tastes pretty damn good."

"At least it doesn't smell QUITE as repulsive," I grumbled. We reached a stoplight and he twisted his spine to reach into the backseat. He rifled around in the shopping bags until he found a box of my bars. He opened it and handed me one. I took it silently and slid it free from the paper wrapper, then tore open one end of the foil. I broke off a corner and savored it on my tongue before I chewed.

The light turned green and Matt sped off. "Hey, let's catch a movie," he suggested.

I paused with my next bite of chocolate just apart from my lips. "What?"

"A movie, you know, a big screen with moving pictures on it?"

"Don't smart off to me," I snapped. "We should be heading back."

"Come on, Mello, either we sit around at the apartment or we kill time out here. You said yourself you couldn't make a move yet. Just give it a rest until tomorrow or else your brain will just crash like an overheated hard drive."

"Your logic is moronic," I complained.

"Makes sense to me," he muttered.

"That's not at all redeeming."

He spewed smoke from his lips. "There's a theater," he said, and cut through traffic to find a place to park. "Looks like they're having an anime film fest," he said. "Let's go."

"…I already said I didn't want to."

"Well, I'm going, and I have the keys, so you're either sitting in here or sitting in the theater," he said matter-of-factly, and then stepped out. He'd suddenly grown a backbone ever since the arcade fiasco. I snarled and kicked my door open, slamming it behind me and then stomping over to meet him on the sidewalk. I folded the torn foil over the remainder of my chocolate bar and put it in my jacket pocket as we headed up to the cinema. He picked a showing and bought tickets, snuffing his cigarette on his way through the door. He purchased a very large soda and then we sat down in the back row. He immediately propped his boots up on the seat in front of him and slouched, slurping his drink.

"Since when have you liked anime?" I asked when the previews started.

"Since forever. Most video games are pretty much just anime that you play, y'know? The Japanese always have the same kinda intricate stories, cool characters, and the best animation."

"…You really are right at home here, aren't you?"

"I guess, as long as I can find American food." He slurped on his drink a little more before he offered it to me. I wrinkled my nose and held my hand up to decline. He shrugged and drank some more. When the lights turned off and everyone was settled, he unfastened his vest collar to fold it down and shoved his goggles up onto his forehead, mussing his bangs. I took off my sunglasses and lounged back, resting one boot on the armrest of the chair in front of me and stretching the other beneath the seat. I took my chocolate from my coat and peeled it open, taking a bite.

The movie had something to do with kids piloting giant robots, big surprise, and I only loosely paid attention. Matt was partially right; if we didn't come here I would have just been sitting at home brooding over the exact same things in the exact same manner. I wasn't sure why he was so desperate to show me a good time just because of the date. Maybe he was trying to make up for storming out on me? I had no idea. It didn't make much sense considering how bold he continued to be with me. Ever since we'd started having sex, his attitude had altered in that way. I threw it to the back of my mind. What the hell, at least I knew he could take care of himself. I'd gotten chocolate out of all this, anyway.

I cracked off another piece and the couple sitting in front of us hushed me. I heard Matt chuckle briefly and then return to his beverage. I cursed and ate more quietly, not needing to bring attention to myself or my habits. The last time that happened, I'd ended up with this gruesome scar. Matt slapped me lightly on the arm and leaned over, telling me the next part was awesome. I rolled my eyes and watched disinterestedly, licking the edge of my candy and leaning my chin on my fist. Not two minutes passed before he stretched his arm over the back of my seat and then let it slide down to settle around my shoulder. I lifted my head and stared at him in the dark.

"You didn't really think that was going to work, did you?" I sneered.

"Maybe." I snatched his hand and flung it off me, twisting his wrist violently. "Ow!" He jerked forward, trying to spare himself the pain of my hold.

"Are you going to stop trying to pawn your clumsy moves off on me?"

"Okay, yeah, I'll stop." I let him go and he shook his wrist. "Even though that was only the second time today."

"I'm not in the mood for your games."

"Not even in the movie theater?"

"No. You're the one who wanted to come in here, now shut up and watch."

"…Lame."


	20. Chapter 19

**+Part 19+**

**December 13, 2009**

**7:28 p.m.**

Matt managed to keep quiet for a whole new plot development in the movie before he stood up. "Be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"This is like my fifth drink," he reminded me.

"It's your fourth and it's your own fault for being a pig," I scolded as I lowered my leg so he could get by.

"Yeah, yeah." He shuffled past me but I snagged his wallet chain, tripping him up so he staggered and flopped onto the empty chair beside me. We got hushed again. "Jeez, what?"

"Put your goggles back down and your collar back up before you leave here," I instructed.

"I know that." He walked off, doing just that before he pushed through the exit door. I sighed in mild mental exhaustion and nibbled off the portion of chocolate I'd been licking. A couple minutes of gigantic robot battles later, I felt my phone vibrate in my inner jacket. I took it out and flipped it open, seeing a text message from him. "U need 2 come here NOW," it said. I snorted and tapped "Why?" as a reply. He texted me back with, "HURRY!" I let out an audible growl and jerked to my feet, jamming my things back in my pockets and replacing my shades before storming out of the theater. I didn't see him in the lobby so I made my way into the restroom.

"What, did you forget HOW?" I demanded impatiently once I got in the door. "Need me to hold your fucking hand?" It shut suddenly behind me and I whirled with my hand on my pistol but he was leaning against it. I watched him turn the lock with a stupid smile on his face. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," I sneered. "Do you really expect me to go along with this? I just told you to—"

He stepped forward in two long strides and pushed me hard into the wall. I nearly hit my head on the tile but I caught myself with one hand and tried to lurch forward to yell at him but he had me pinned with his lips pressed to mine before I could think of an adequate curse. He had a hand pressed to either side of me and his tongue was already exploring. I was tempted to bite him but instead I punched him in the belly and swiped him away with my arm. He staggered back a few steps and grabbed his injury.

"Even if I felt like doing this it sure as hell wouldn't be in a filthy fucking public restroom!"

He managed to force a grin. "That's what makes it fun."

"You're a mental case."

"Well, so are you." He unfastened his vest and pushed his goggles onto his forehead. "And I'm not letting you leave until we fuck."

"You're not LETTING me?" I demanded in disbelief. "Try and fucking STOP me, you bastard!" I went for the door but he was already grabbing my wrist and flinging me backwards by it, tripping me with his boot and catching me in the crook of his other arm.

"If you insist."

I bared my teeth at him and slung my knee into the side of his, buckling it and then snatching his hair, dashing him onto the floor. I moved to step over but he tangled our ankles and kicked, sweeping my feet out from under me so I hit the floor right next to him. "You're really pissing me off now," I hissed.

"I know, but it's turning me on," he remarked, not discouraged. I got to my feet as he did, readying myself to counter his next move, but he just shrugged and leaned against the exit door. "Be easier just to go with it."

"When have I ever made things easy?"

"Good point." I went up to him, face to face, and was tempted just to slug him with all my force, but I glanced at the cut still bandaged on his cheekbone and the bruise around the bridge of his nose, and it stopped me for some reason.

"I'm tired of this." I snatched the door handle but he grabbed me with both hands under my thighs and moved us back against the wall, pretty much carrying my weight. "Matt," I warned.

"Mello," he said, and took my sunglasses off. I glared up at his easy expression, sternly determined to oppose him, but his nonchalance seemed to cancel out my rage. He forced me to spread my legs around his when he speared his knee between them, starting to massage it against my crotch.

I scoffed lightly. "…You really want to do this here?"

"You really DON'T want to?" he retorted.

I sighed gruffly, waiting too long to answer, because he seemed to take my silence for compliance and kissed me again. I let him this time, tired of trying to oppose him. He simply wouldn't be discouraged. Why? Just because it was my Birthday, possibly my last? That was so ridiculous I didn't want to accept it, which made it the most likely explanation, I suppose. Still, I was being far too soft on him. Soon he would start getting the idea that he was allowed to misbehave around me with no consequences. All day I'd been uncharacteristically forgiving of him. It didn't sit well with me, like a lot of things lately. Was it just because of last night, because we'd had our first major disagreement? Well, I'd need to reassert my dominance to teach him who the fuck was in charge around here.

He maneuvered me out of my jacket and it fell to the floor accompanied by a clatter from my gun. He moved to kiss my neck, his hands roaming over the back of my body, starting at my shoulders and gliding down to my backside, then clutching and rubbing. My skin ignited with heat against my will, unable to be denied. One of his hands went to my belt, snapping it open and then searching inside the tight leather.

"Damn fucker," I groaned, and had to bend my spine, resting my head against the tile wall. I didn't know what to do with my hands but the more times we did this the more conscious of myself I tried to be. Even if my mind receded, I wanted to meet him full force. I circled his waist with my arms, clasping his shirt fabric. I felt the shape of his gun stowed in the back of his jeans and removed it, setting it aside before I pulled his shirt up a little and ran a couple gloved fingertips over his naked skin.

He lifted his head to look at me, the green of his eyes so prominently centered amongst his pale, faintly freckled face. He pressed our lips together again and I did my best not to clench my teeth or push us apart as his tongue roved eagerly, just like his hand. I was erect in only a few meager seconds of his manipulation, and he still insisted on moving at a slow, steady pace. His free hand unzipped my vest all the way down and his lips and tongue followed the path. I moved my hands to his hair as he lowered onto his knees and tore open the drawstring fly of my pants.

His lips and tongue were on me there next, forcing a gasp from my mouth as my leg muscles shrank in on themselves. His hands moved back to my buttocks, holding my lower body tautly against him as he began to suck me. I pulled his goggles off his head and dropped them so I could tangle my fingers in his shaggy locks and tug at the roots. He didn't pause or loosen his grip until I came, exhaling gratefully. He stood back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. He licked his lips once and then snatched hold of me again.

"Even that part of you is kinda sweet," he remarked. I frowned in his face before I flung my hand between his legs. He grunted through his teeth before he managed to grin. I met his mouth aggressively and he fumbled with his belt and jeans. I shoved my hand in his open fly, immediately gripping him inside his undergarment. "Fuck," he mumbled. He pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth and collected a handful of soap from the dispenser on the wall. He cupped my erection with the hand that still wore a glove, stroking it again. I held it in until his other hand slipped down the back of my pants and I felt a cold, wet finger invade me and explore. I winced with each sensation, and then worse when he added a second finger.

"Damn you," I murmured. He didn't spend much time with that excursion however, and soon enough he flipped me around and rammed my pelvis against the sink. I caught myself and he penetrated, forcing a shaking moan from my throat. I'd made him so painfully hard. My hands had nothing to grab onto so I braced them against the sink and let his body guide mine harshly. Somewhere during the rough, roiling ecstasy I felt his fingers sift through the ends of my hair, grazing my neck now and then.

"Y'know, Mello," I heard him utter in a low, breathy tone near my ear, "I like your hair this long."

"Matt…" I began roughly, but didn't want to pose the effort to make full sentences because I wasn't sure if I could maintain my tone. "Just…focus on one thing at a time… I'm…"

"Got it, Boss."

He thrust anxiously and continued manipulating my organ, moving us until we ended, both bracing ourselves against the sink and then catching our breaths. I realized that this sort of thing always happened relatively the same way, with him ensuring I was satisfied first before he went about pleasuring himself. Sometimes he could overlook me in the midst of things, but when premeditation was involved he always planned for me foremost. How had I not noticed that before? It also appeared that whenever I took the initiative in these kinds of situations, it enflamed him twice as fiercely. Did he like it when I took control? His personality certainly did indicate that.

"Always wanted to do you in public," he whispered, and then licked the edge of my ear.

"You're a freak," I snapped, although I hadn't disliked it… He didn't need to know that though.

"You liked it so I guess we can be freaks together." We cleaned ourselves hastily in the sinks and then replaced all our articles. By the time we returned to the theater, the movie was ending.

**December 13, 2009**

**10:16 p.m.**

We were on our way back to the apartment, Matt spewing chocolate-tinged smoke and me nibbling on the last hunk of my confection. He'd insisted on staying for another film since we missed the end of the first one, and when I reminded him that was his fault, he just shrugged and said it was worth it. We weren't too far off when the car suddenly lurched and then shook violently as a disturbing rattle burst from the engine.

"Fuck," Matt muttered, and then downshifted and pulled off the road, slowing to a stop in an alley near a closed down furniture store. It continued to rattle and vibrate violently until he cut the engine.

"You said this thing ran great," I sneered. "You got suckered into buying it because of its looks."

"It's fine, I got it," he said, and stepped out. He rummaged around in the trunk and pulled out a toolbox. "You should talk about worrying over looks, Princess," he mumbled under his breath as he leaned in the window to pop the hood.

"What was that?" I hissed.

"Nothing," he said, and I rolled my eyes and propped my elbow against the door, nibbling my chocolate more ferociously. He flicked on a cordless shop-light and hung it up, shoving his goggles onto his head and peering at the engine.

I rolled my window down and leaned my head out after a few minutes. "Can you fix it?" I demanded, starting to get irritably cold.

He scoffed. "Can I fix it," he repeated, as if the very question was ludicrous.

"Well? What the hell is wrong with the fucking contraption?"

"Looks like it's just the spark plugs," he told me, digging around in his toolbox. "Can you come here and hold the light for me?" he asked. I growled and got out of the car, rolling the last piece of my chocolate into my mouth and chewing it while I crumpled the foil and tossed it in the backseat. I went around and he handed me the light. I held it for him while he fiddled around, tightening things and then checking around and tightening other things. "I think that should do it for now." He shut the hood back. "I can get new plugs tomorrow."

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

"Yep, but I'll need a look at it in the daylight to be positive." He started putting his tools away.

"I wish you didn't insist on getting us decades-old cars," I snapped. "Why is it so impossible for you to go buy a car that was made it the last five years?"

"Because those cars got no style," he said, turning back to me. His eyes shot open and his arm bolted out to me. "Mello!"

I cocked my head in confusion but suddenly there was a fist in my hair and the cold, keen shape of a blade against my throat. "What—?" I hissed, but the knife pressed harder to my throat and I was frozen in place with my chin pointed upward. The light I'd been holding fell to the ground and flickered a little. I searched frantically, only able to see a pair of shoes on the pavement beneath me.

Matt started forward but the blade pressed even tighter to my pulse. "Move and I slice your girlfriend," warned a gruff voice just behind my ear.

"W-Whoa, just relax, okay?" Matt blurted in Japanese, holding his hands up harmlessly. "What do you want, man?"

"Start with all your money," he ordered.

"No problem, just stay calm, okay—"

"Shut the fuck up and give me your money!" Matt slowly reached for his wallet, removing any identification he had before he tossed the worn leather stuffed with cash at our feet. I tried to maneuver my legs so I could trip the bastard up and make a move to escape, but the guy just jerked my hair more viciously, this time breaking skin with his knife, and I had to freeze again. In this position I couldn't break loose without risking a slit throat.

Goddammit! How could I let this happen?

"You can have it all, okay? Just leave us alone," Matt insisted, trying to be pacifying.

"Hand over those car keys next!" he demanded.

Shit! If he took the car… We had any number of personal belongings inside it, not to mention the insurance forms and plates were forged, and the identity they belonged to fake. We could be tracked by anyone who really wanted to find us if the car got dumped or sold…

"You don't want this car, man, trust me," he cautioned. "It just broke down and doesn't run." Smart of him, but the guy didn't like that at all. He cut me a little more, making me flinch in pain.

"You're a fucking liar!" he accused.

"No, really, do you think I pulled over here because I felt like it? The engine is shot. Look, you can see my tools sitting out right over there." Matt motioned behind him and it was silent for a few moments. The tension in the air was thick, and my apprehension grew the longer Matt and my mugger stared each other down.

"That's too bad," the Japanese crook began, "because that's the whole reason I came over here." I didn't like the tone of his voice. His hand suddenly moved from my hair to my neck just below my jaw, and he squeezed, choking me a little. "I guess I'll just have to take what I want out of your girlfriend instead."

"Okay, you REALLY don't wanna do that," Matt declared. "You'll find a couple surprises you won't like, trust me—"

"Shut up, fucking white kid!" he shouted, and crushed my throat harder in his hand while jabbing the knife deeper—too deep for comfort. I gagged a little, trying to get air in my lungs as my eyes started to go blurry. If he went any further…! Shit! I can't believe I'm so helpless at a time like this! I tried to move my legs or arms to counter him again but he just choked me more ruthlessly and barked, "Move one more time and you're dead, bitch!"

I growled under my breath. I considered saying something to let him know I was a man in the hopes that he'd abandon his crime, but then there was no guarantee that wouldn't just piss him off enough to finish me. Plus, with his hand where it was I couldn't really talk anyway. I had no other options but to wait and see if Matt could get me out of this. This was the second time within the span of two months that my life depended solely on Matt!

He kept his hands held out, his brow creased drastically and his eyes focused. Until now he'd been concentrating on the man behind me, but now he glanced to me. If he was looking for my advice I wasn't in any position to give it. Even if I could signal him somehow I was at a loss, much to my seething. I didn't see a way out that wouldn't involve my bleeding out in less than two minutes. I could already feel the warm trickle of my blood gliding down my neck and pooling at my collarbone. I bared my teeth to hold in the urge to lash out. If I dared, the slightest muscle impulse from this bastard could slash my jugular. Matt could easily see that and it seemed he was weighing options in his head, assessing the situation with care, rushed as it was.

It was too silent, too motionless, for way too long.

In a flash, Matt whipped his gun out from the back of his jeans and aimed, flicking off the safety. The mugger gasped and stiffened. Matt jerked back the slide with deft speed, putting a bullet in the chamber. "Let him go now or I shoot," Matt stated, his voice rimmed with a hasty ardor I'd never before heard.

"Whatever, asshole! We're in Japan! What is that, a toy?" the guy taunted.

Matt aimed quickly to the side and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot resounded through the empty alleyway and over the night air as Matt corrected his aim. The mugger flinched and lifted me a little, holding me in front of him.

"It's not a toy, now put him the fuck down and I won't put a bullet between your eyes," Matt menaced.

"W-Wait…HIM?" the mugger stammered.

"You heard what I said! You don't want a guy anyway so put him the fuck down and get lost!"

Matt's voice was positively livid, ringing with a repressed ruthlessness he'd never used. It didn't fit him—it didn't even really SOUND like him. If I hadn't seen him say it I would've denied it was his voice.

"How about I just take your faggot with me—I'm sure some freaks will pay for that. Unless you want to kill both of us to stop me." He laughed. He began to drag me backwards, deeper into the alley. "I've got to get my money somehow, right?"

Matt followed our departure with the barrel of his gun, one eye shut and both hands on the weapon, aiming steadily with deadly precision. "Last chance to put him down, fucker," Matt demanded.

The mugger just laughed, so Matt chewed his lip, still aiming in vain. He couldn't kill the man without killing me, and he couldn't approach without forcing him to slit my throat. He was trapped just as I was. Fucking shit! The mugger dragged me backward, his foot hitting something metal, I guess a trashcan, so he changed direction to walk around it. Matt shot again, and I heard the bullet ricochet off the metal, shocking the mugger enough to make him release my throat—and then Matt shot again and I heard the man scream. The knife dropped from my neck and I craned away from it, hurling my elbow backwards into his sternum. He grunted in pain and toppled to the ground, so I spun away and backed up hurriedly, throwing my hand to my bleeding throat.

The mugger was crumpled on the asphalt clutching his shoulder, which was gushing blood. Damn, so that's where Matt had got him. It was an amazing shot, definitely the product of skill and not luck. The mugger must've left himself slightly open by startling from that ricochet off the trashcan. Impressive. He groaned pitifully and slumped back. He had a mask tied around his mouth and nose and a knit cap on his head. I could see his pocketknife on the ground near him, so I picked it up while he moaned in agony.

I heard Matt's boots hitting the ground rapidly and I turned to meet him. "Can you believe this motherfucker—" I began, but couldn't finish before his arms flew around me.

Matt clamped me against the front of himself, his grip firm nearly to the point of pain. "Jesus fucking Christ," he mumbled in my hair. "Jesus fucking… I thought you were gonna… Right in front of me… Fuck." His cheek was crushed into the side of my head, and I was speechless. I don't think he'd ever held me like this—not in any context outside of sex anyway. Not even when we were children had he done so. "Fuck, Mello… Jesus…" He was babbling. I suppose I could understand his reaction, in a sense, but I couldn't muster a response of my own.

"Matt…" I said after a couple minutes, pushing him a little by his shoulder. He lifted his head and looked down at me, his eyes still wide and fretful, his hand still tightly gripping his weapon. "I need to take care of this first."

"Take care of what?"

I stepped away from him and walked back to the mugger, watching as he bled miserably all over the ground. He stared up at me and whimpered as I whipped my gun out from my jacket and flipped off the safety. It wasn't a good idea to kill someone with a gun in Japan, because they were illegal and much harder to get a hold of, so it would definitely raise suspicion amongst the police, but…Matt had no choice but to use his gun already so it was too late anyway. We had the exact same model weapon, with untraceable marks, so it would work out. I pulled back the slide and pointed the weapon at his head, turning it sideways as my signature to ensure death.

"W-Wait, no, no, please!" he begged. "Don't k-kill me, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I just—I needed the money! Please!"

"Uh, wait," Matt said, coming up to me. "I know he's a fucking psycho, but we could—"

"No, Matt, that's not it," I told him, keeping my aim steady with one hand still held to my wounded neck to stanch the bleeding.

"What's not it?"

"He has to die out of sheer necessity, not just because he fucking pissed me off."

"Necessity…?" he questioned. "You mean because…"

I sighed. "Yes. Because he can identify us. If he manages to get to a hospital and someone contacts the police he'll have our descriptions and they'll be detailed. Not to mention you've said my name in front of him more than once, a distinctive name that isn't easily forgotten. If Kira gets word of this it's all over. He has to die here."

Matt looked from me to the now sniveling, begging crook on the ground at my feet. I saw the brief sheen of his snarling teeth in the dark. "Then I'll do it!" he announced abruptly and stepped forward, stomping his boot down on the man's chest and jabbing the gun muzzle towards his forehead.

"Matt, you don't have to," I started to say.

"No!" he protested. "It's my fucking fault so I should be the one who kills him. That's fair, right? It should be ME!" He set his finger on the trigger and the man began to shake terribly, reaching his useable hand out and beginning to weep and stutter for mercy. "Shut up!" Matt yelled at him. "Just shut the fuck up!"

I stared at him as his arm trembled all the way from his knuckles to his shoulder, his finger curling further and further on the trigger. I watched a change wash over his face like I'd never imagined. It's as if someone had pulled a pin and released all the lazy, crude, boorish, unkempt nonchalance from his existence and left him fuming, crazed, and beyond recognition.

I stood there for a few tense seconds, about to allow him to go through with it. Like he'd said it was fair to give him this kill. He'd taken the man down and he was willing to seize responsibility for him. But…the harder he clenched his teeth and the wilder his usually sunken eyes became, the more unsettled I felt. I fully realized the gravity of what he was about to do.

Matt had never killed anyone.

I reached over and fired before he could, splattering blood and brains across the ground in a rush of raw, deafening sound. Matt flinched jerkily, staring as the blood gushed forth from the large hole in the man's forehead. His eyes were open and blank, his body now lying limp and lifeless beneath us, at my hands. Matt couldn't look away for a long time, his gun still aimed, his finger still on the trigger. I put the safety back on my gun and shoved it in my jacket pocket, then slowly put my hand on his arm.

He released a breath I guess he'd been holding and dropped his arms to his sides, slapping his free hand to his face. He wiped the sweat off and then rubbed his eyes before he gripped a clump of his hair. "I… Shit, I…"

"Matt," I stated, not knowing what else to do, "let's go." I placed the mugger's pocketknife back in his hand and then took some bills from my wallet and crumpled them a little, scattering them across the ground. "It'll look like a mugging gone bad, but we have to go now before someone notices, or worse yet the cops show up. It won't be long with all those gunshots."

He scraped his hand through his hair a few times before he wiped his face again and managed to nod his head. I pulled him by the arm and we headed back out of the alley. Matt stowed his gun and tools and recovered his wallet. I double-checked the ground to make sure none of my blood had spilled on the asphalt, and confirmed that it hadn't gotten past my vest. We got back in the car and pulled out onto the street again. For a while I was going to suggest that I drive, but with the way my neck was bleeding it really wasn't a good idea. It didn't seem like I would've gotten an opportunity anyway, because he seemed bolted in place on his seat. He didn't even put his goggles back up as he drove. I noticed him gripping the steering wheel fiercely, his mouth still clamped uncomfortably. I wasn't sure what to say, or how to begin to inquire of his state of mind.

He'd just saved my life, a feat no one else had ever accomplished, but now he'd done it twice. And I had no words to say.

**December 14, 2009**

**12:17 a.m.**

When we got back to the apartment we still hadn't said one word. I tossed my jacket off and headed for the bathroom. He came in after me a moment later without his vest, watching as I inspected my wound in the mirror. "Shit," I grumbled. It wasn't very deep, but it was still troublesome. I unzipped my vest and removed my gloves, finding a rag and wetting it to dab the blood away. I winced a little and it didn't want to stop bleeding.

Matt left the bathroom and a second later I heard him unzipping something and rummaging around. I held the cloth to my neck and came out to see him tossing the contents of his suitcase all over the floor. When it was empty he cursed and then started tossing the contents of some of the boxes and cases, spilling things all over the living room.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Can't find the first aid kit," he muttered, and then shuffled around some more. "Fuck."

"…It might be in my suitcase," I realized.

He went into my room and dug around until he found it, and then we went back in the bathroom. He took out alcohol, gauze, and medical tape. I cleaned the blood from my throat again and he took it upon himself to pat it down with alcohol. I held in the pain and then he grabbed a square of gauze and pressed it to the cut, taping it in place. He then secured it by circling my neck with a few layers of bandages. I held my hair out of the way for him, not questioning due to the unstable look that remained in his eyes.

When he was done, our eyes met and I looked at him until he wavered, shaking his head and slumping down to sit on the toilet lid. He leaned his head on his hand. "I'm sorry," he said.

I walked over slowly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, close enough for our legs to touch. "Matt, you don't—"

"It's my fault! I saw him come up behind you but I didn't react fast enough! You'd think I would have better reaction time by now!" He laughed briefly, dryly, and shook his head again. "And I hesitated! That fucking shithead deserved to die, whether he knew your name or not, but I still…hesitated! I'm not like you, Mello! I'm weak…!"

"No, Matt, it's fine," I said immediately, for some reason wanting to placate him when I never really had before. "There was no reason for you to shoot him while I was there. I took care of it. It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing!" He stood and walked over to the sink, slapping his hands down on the countertop. "You almost died because I wasn't quick enough—wasn't GOOD enough! You get it? I fucked UP!"

He stayed in place there and after a moment I slowly stood. I came up behind him, not sure why his distress was so unnerving. It was just so…out of place in him. I don't like things to alter without my knowledge or permission, I'm too much of a control freak for that, and I know it. Matt was no exception and seeing him that way—so utterly different than everything I'd known or expected—just wasn't working for me.

I realized I'd always depended on him to be constant, to be the single anchor in my hectic world. I realized that I honestly felt as if I possessed him, as if he were rightfully mine to command, as if he truly was my property. How long had I contained these feelings? And why didn't they bother me?

"You're right, Matt," I said, putting my hand on his elbow. He looked up at me in the mirror. "You're not like me. I can kill indiscriminately, without blinking, but you can't. We're different on a very fundamental level, because even though you aren't free of sin you're still a decent human being." He turned to face me, his eyebrows shriveling and his mouth tweaking, as if he would speak, but he didn't—or couldn't. "I gave that up a long, long time ago, before I can even remember. I dragged you into this but that doesn't mean I wanted to corrupt you in the same way I was. Neither of us can ever be normal, not with how we were raised. But unlike me, YOU can still live a good life when this is all over. But there isn't anything good left for someone like me. That's why we're different and that's fine. I never asked for it to be any other way. So there's no reason for you to beat yourself up over this. I asked you to help me on this case because I know you, and I know your skills, and I can trust you to get the job done. I can't rely on anyone else that way, and so I never expected you to be anything other than what you are. Never."

"Mello…"

"I told you, it's fine. It was just a scratch and you handled the situation calmly and capably. I wasn't in a position to do anything but you took care of it. That's all that was necessary and that's all that I ever expect. No one is at fault and you're not weak just because you aren't a murderer. That's not the point of power. Kira thinks having a notebook that kills people is powerful, but if you can't handle your own life with your own hands then you're just a coward standing by. Do you think Near would have been able to do what you did? Not a chance. Do you think any number of my criminal underlings would stick their own necks out for my sake? Never. And that's why my trust lies with you. Even if you aren't a killer you aren't a coward either, Matt."

He sighed, his eyes lowering from my face to my wounded neck. "But I think…I am a coward," he murmured, almost too low for me to hear.

I said nothing, so he picked up the washcloth and rinsed it out, then reached forward and pulled my vest all the way open. I wasn't sure what he was doing, and my hand went up to stop him, but then I saw he was beginning to wipe clean the drying trail of blood on my collarbone and chest. After a few moments, I pulled the garment the rest of the way off to give him room to work, throwing it carelessly aside, and he paused briefly before he slipped my Rosary over my head and dropped it next. Some of the beads were smudged in my blood. He moved his free hand from my arm up into my hair, and dipped his head low against my clavicle, running his tongue over me. I realized he was licking the remainder of the blood off me. I grabbed his sleeve, not knowing what to think.

"We may not share all the same sins, but that doesn't mean I have any more of a chance at living a good life than you do," he said, lifting his head back up. "I am a coward, because the longer I stay here…the less I want to win this." He licked my blood off his lips.

"…What are you talking about?"

He smiled weakly, sliding his other hand into my hair as well. "I'm not sure," he mentioned. "Kinda sounds like…I hope we die, doesn't it?"

"Yes, that's exactly what it sounds like, Matt," I said sternly.

"I don't think I do, though. I think it's more like…I hope Kira never gets caught. That way you'll keep on chasing him for the rest of your life. That way you'll keep me around without a reason to discard me. I want to stay here, in this place, doing your bidding… God, that's really pathetic, huh?"

"Matt…?" I wasn't sure what he was saying to me anymore, or why.

"No… Forget it."

"But I don't…" He threw his arms around me and pulled us together, embracing tightly. "What are you…"

"I don't know what I'm saying," he admitted. "So I'll just stop."

He kissed me hard, keeping us crammed together with a hand curling in my hair. I could taste blood on his lips. At first I assumed it was only mine, but could that be how hard he'd been biting himself? I didn't resist him. I felt unable to, somehow. He pushed me back against the wall, a little roughly, and his mouth and tongue overcame mine wholly, anxiously. His hands roamed my hair and bare back and arms. I grabbed hold of his shirt, not knowing why this sudden urge had come about from him, or why I couldn't stop him. Why I couldn't take charge. Why I couldn't muster the strength for it. Damn it, was I really getting soft? Was there anyone else to blame but him? Was there anything I could do to overcome it…and did I want to try?

He moved his mouth along my cheek and through my bangs to kiss and lick my ear, breathing just apart from it. I stared over his shoulder at my reflection in the mirror, at the semi-defeated look on my face. It was nearly unrecognizable, like Matt's voice had been earlier, and something felt heavy in the pit of my stomach like a weight had been dropped, threatening to buckle my knees.

I shut my eyes, trying to release my mental awareness and fade into nothing but sensory reception. Distract me! Blot out this uncertainty! His hands were warm and slightly damp, and his arms were solidly incasing me. I could escape his grip if I wanted, but it would be difficult with how closely we were pressed. His breathing became heavier, hotter, and his hair was brushing over the scars on my eyelid. I felt it in such vivid detail due to my absence of eyelashes and eyebrow on that side.

I nudged him back and he blinked down at me. "Not here, Matt," I managed to say.

His eyes opened a little more, I guess surprised by my compliance. "Uh, yeah… I guess you don't really wanna do it in the bathroom again." He was trying to sound ordinary, but I could hear the nervous undertones in his voice. He was still unsettled, and I couldn't quite understand why. So much had happened between us in the past few days—things I could never have predicted or be prepared for. Issues between us continued to escalate in complications, something I hadn't anticipated or welcomed. But now it seemed too late to reverse things, and I didn't really want to exert the effort for it. "The bed then, for a change?" He chuckled once, softly.

"…Yeah. That's fine."

Once we got in the bedroom he appeared abnormally unsure of himself. I didn't know what to do to respond to him so I tried to play it casually. I walked over to the bed and sat down, bending to remove my boots. My belt and wallet came next, and he seemed to shake himself out of his daze. He removed his goggles from around his neck and then peeled off his shirt. He came up to the bed and I moved back onto it in anticipation of his next move. He kicked off his right boot and then slid that knee onto the bed, shaking off the left boot before he crawled on top of me. His wallet and belt were discarded next.

"Mello?"

"What?"

"Uh…I haven't been asking, but…does it still hurt when we…?"

I looked up at him as he hovered over me, his slightly broader but still slender shoulders blocking my view of the cracked, dusty ceiling. "No," I answered, lying through my teeth. I absolutely didn't want to admit that he still hurt me every time we did this, even though usually I would utilize it to scold him. But given the situation I just didn't want to do that.

He smiled weakly for a second before it faded. "Okay then... That's good." Could he tell I was lying? He'd once said he could always tell, but did I truly believe that? I'd never felt so transparent. "So you don't mind if I…call the shots?" he asked, almost reluctantly.

"…Just go ahead." He nodded before he leaned down and found my lips with his again. I could feel a slight scrape from his stubble. He needed to shave and his mouth was a blend of chocolate, smoke, and coppery blood. His hair smelled like nicotine and engine oil. When his fingers rubbed up against my mouth next, I let him drag them along my tongue before I suckled. The taste was a blend of metal and gunpowder. The memories of my near-death incident came pouring back in, even as I'd already gotten over it. I survived and the witness was dead—end of story. But it wasn't so simple with Matt. Usually it was impossible to get a rise out of him about anything, but lately…

He had sex with me much more patiently than earlier and even his most subtle of movements were slow and nearly careful, though of course still hotly eager. He was paying far closer attention to me than ever before, sometimes hesitating, but never wavering. He wasn't at all detached but something in his eyes was out of the ordinary. I tried not to focus on it and just let my body melt away into bare tactile stimulation. There was no way I could begin to decipher the fluctuations in his emotions, as faint and capricious as they were. I could devote thought to it later, if I wanted. Not now.

**December 14, 2009**

**8:24 a.m.**

I woke in the morning drowsily, my neck immediately sore and throbbing. I groaned and lifted my hand to my head, rubbing my weary eyes. I tried to sit up, but there was a weight pressing down on me. I looked down to see Matt's head lying on my chest, one of his arms flung across me and his upper body half-propped on my stomach. He was sound asleep, his torso lifting up and down peacefully. He had a lot more freckles on his back than he did on the front of his body. I don't know how he'd ended up where he was. He seemed to still be a very active sleeper, something else that at least hadn't changed much about him, although when we were kids he mostly just mumbled nonsense and chewed on his pillow.

I sighed and slipped carefully out from underneath him, trying to cradle his head so he didn't wake up. It managed to work and I set him down on the mattress where he continued to slumber. I got out of bed and collected a set of my clothing off the floor from when he'd tossed my suitcase. I took a quick shower and then combed my hair and brushed my teeth. The soaked ends of my hair began to dribble water down my neck, dampening the bandages, so I took a rubber band and tied it back in a small tail since it was long enough to that now. I didn't like how visible my scar was, but it's not like I was leaving the apartment this way.

I cleaned the blood off my Rosary and slid it on before I dressed and then went into the living room, turning on the morning news. I listened while I rummaged around through the numerous pink shopping bags from the novelty chocolate store he'd practically cleaned out. I stowed whatever needed to be cold in the fridge before I grabbed the chocolate mint tea and started some water boiling. I considered a moment before I grabbed a packet of the instant chocolate coffee and dumped it in a mug. When the water was heated I poured myself a cup to dunk the tea in and then added some to the other mug. I stirred in the coffee, which smelled glorious blended with the strong flavor of chocolate. I made my tea and sipped it, setting it on the coffee table before I took his mug into the bedroom.

He was still asleep, big surprise, so I shook him by the shoulder. "Hey, get up," I said. It took him a couple moments of yawning and groggily complaining but he managed to sit up and rub his eyes.

"What time is it?" he muttered.

"Past 8:00. Here." I shoved the steaming mug in his face and he jumped a little before he looked at it, blinking. "Would you take it already?"

"Uh, thanks," he stuttered, and grabbed it. He blew on it before he sipped it. "Man, that's pretty epic."

"Hurry up and get ready. We have some catching up to do on the case."

"Okay." I went back out in the living room to listen to the news, hearing him start the shower. I sipped my tea in-between browsing my online hot sheets. It seemed Sakura TV's new program, "Today's Lady Takada," was a show based entirely on the newswoman's personal life. It had posted the pictures and backgrounds of her brand new bodyguards on their forum, asking for comments and such. They were all either plain or homely Japanese women, and then Halle. It described her as a former CIA agent and gave her alias, Halle Lidner. She stood out like a sore thumb amongst the other women. Near had pretty much announced to Kira which bodyguard was a spy. He really was playing a dangerous game with Light.

Matt walked out in a towel to search for a clean set of clothes. He didn't have to walk far because everything was still strewn all over the floor. He picked a few garments at random and laid them on the back of the sofa, pausing to drink some more of his coffee and smoke a cigarette.

"Don't forget to shave," I mentioned, not taking my eyes off the screen.

"Huh?"

"Shave," I repeated.

He blew a cloud of smoke. "Why? It bother you?"

"It might."

"…What if I suddenly felt like letting it grow out? I'd be a lot harder to recognize if I had a goatee. Might even be sexy, huh?"

I turned and grimaced at him. "Are you serious?" I growled.

"No," he said with a shrug, sipping more coffee. "Just wanted to see how you'd react."

I scoffed and went back to what I was doing. Suddenly I felt his callused fingertips graze my flesh just below my left ear. I stiffened and leaned back to stare up at him.

"How's your neck?" he asked, his snide tone diminished.

"Fine," I answered honestly. "Like I said, just a scratch."

"A scratch near the jugular," he reminded me.

"I know, but a scratch nonetheless. I'm going to live so let's not waste any more thought on it."

"…If you say so." I expected him to stop touching me, but his fingers drifted up to slide across my ear and then behind it. "Never seen your hair up."

"So?"

"I like it."

"Good for you. It's just hair."

He exhaled and stepped back, taking another deep drag. "You're impossible." He finished off the cigarette and then downed the rest of his coffee and left to get dressed. I heard him brushing his teeth by the time I finished scanning my online sources. I stood up, finishing my tea, and placed the cup in the sink. I surveyed the apartment, knowing it desperately required tidying. I would need to be well organized from now on to stay in peak condition for my schemes. I didn't need any petty distractions.

"Matt?" I called.

He poked his head out into the hall. "What?" I went over, seeing him shirtless with half his face smeared in shaving gel. He'd finished one whole cheek and most of his chin. His hair was still wet but he had it pushed back and out of his eyes with his goggles.

"Sakura TV has announced Takada's bodyguards on their forum, and will be running a special show about it. Halle is one of them just like she said."

"Yeah?" He went back to the mirror and dragged the razor over the remaining section of his chin. He tapped it in the sink. "So what's the next move?"

"I'm thinking at this point all we can do is wait and watch," I thought aloud.

"My least favorite thing," he muttered, and began to shave his upper lip.

"Mine too but it's our only option. If I'm going to get to Takada, I need to look for just the right opportunity. I need an opening and I can utilize Halle for that. But I have to be patient. If I act too soon it won't do me any good. But if I act too late Near might steal my prize out from under me."

"Hmm." He started on his other cheek. "So we should start following Takada's every move then, huh?"

"Yes. From now on, we'll need to concentrate on stealth and espionage. That will be necessary to make my plan work out."

He finished shaving and washed off his face, then patted on some generic aftershave. He wriggled his way into a purple and black striped shirt and yanked his goggles down over his eyes. He put a fresh chocolate cigarette in his lips and lit it, taking a drag and then exhaling smoke.

"Okay, let's get started, Boss."


	21. Chapter 20

**+Part 20+**

**December 21, 2009**

**6:07 p.m.**

For the next several days, Matt and I stalked Kiyomi Takada's every single move. From morning to night we were close behind her, and there wasn't a single public act she took that hadn't been observed and documented by me. Of course, I would have liked to observe her from an even closer distance, but that was virtually impossible. Just as I was never far from Takada, her bodyguards were never far from her. At home, her personal female armada was at hand, and anytime she left her apartment, her swarm of black-clad armed forces was surrounding her. She never took a step by herself, and I couldn't risk being caught by them at this stage.

I did notice two very crucial things in that time, however: one, that she still met regularly with Light Yagami at the same hotel; and two, that she seemed to have taken a strong liking to Halle. No matter where Takada went or what she did, Halle was always within arm's reach. She was the newswoman's closest companion by far. Rather shallow of Takada, to have chosen the most attractive female out of the bunch to confide in. Or perhaps Kira had warned her that a member of the SPK was among her guards, and Takada had been smart enough to pick her out. Why keep her so close at hand then? Was it to leak hints at Near and guide him the way Kira wanted? Would Kira really trust that smitten newswoman to handle such a challenge for him? It remained to be seen.

Late in the evening, once Takada had finished up with News 9, Halle escorted her into a car and then got behind the wheel, something she didn't usually do. Of course a couple cars full of her muscular bodyguards followed behind. I tailed them on my motorbike to a quaint, private vacation hotel. To my surprise, Mogi was there waiting outside of a car. Mogi was Misa Amane's—the former Second Kira's—guard/manager. So Takada and Amane were meeting? But why? I watched from a safe distance as only Halle and Takada entered the hotel. So Halle would be sitting in? That meant I could ask her what was transpiring tonight.

I remembered what Matt said about trusting her too much. He was right, and I couldn't put all my faith in her word, but I had no other window into Takada's private life. I would need to call her soon, perhaps right after Takada went home for the night, that way she wouldn't have any time to come up with an adequate lie. I could confirm her information later, and then proceed.

Not even an hour had passed before Takada left in a huff with Halle close by her side. They drove off and her army of bodyguards followed. A couple minutes later, Misa Amane came staggering out with a bottle of wine in one hand and her purse in the other. Mogi attempted to aid her with both arms outstretched, asking if she was okay.

"Of course I am! I won!" she announced in a slurred voice.

"You won?" he questioned.

"Yeah, piece of cake."

What the hell was she talking about? Mogi guided her into the car and they left, and then the parking lot was practically empty except for me.

**December 22, 2009**

**12:39 a.m.**

An hour after Takada and Amane had gone home, I called Halle's cell. It took her a while to pick up, and when she answered, she was whispering. "Mello, what's the matter?"

"What were those two talking about?" I said quietly.

"…What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me at this point in the game. Misa Amane and Kiyomi Takada—what were they doing meeting with each other?"

"…So you've been spying on Takada."

"You knew that already, now stop being coy. It won't work on me."

"…I'll have to be quick, because Takada is sleeping in the next room. I hardly ever get any time alone anymore. This woman is busy and popular…and very demanding." I heard a brief shuffle of cloth and she exhaled. "A few days ago, Amane was at NHN discussing plans for her comeback performance, and she and Takada had a bit of a tiff. I had to restrain Amane in order to prevent her from assaulting Takada, but then Takada insisted Amane was her good friend and didn't want her to be treated that way. Today, Takada had me call Amane's stand-in manager, Mogi, and request that they have dinner together. Amane complied and they had dinner at that hotel. I thought it might be something of interest since Takada insisted I come along too, but they pretty much spent the entire time arguing over which one of them was Light Yagami's girlfriend."

"That's all they spoke about?" I sneered.

"Amane ended the conversation by telling Takada that Light would eventually catch Kira, and then she would get the death penalty. Takada seemed very shaken by that statement, and got up to leave, telling me to keep the conversation confidential or else Amane might be killed by one of the Kira worshippers. That comment struck me the most. I wasn't aware Takada could be so vindictive."

Of course she was, because she knew Light was Kira. But considering Amane's behavior…it was almost 100% certain that Kira had ordered her to give up her ownership of her Death Note, thus relinquishing her memories of it. Kira had literally rendered her innocent, as she had no idea of her own crimes any longer. No wonder spying on her had given me zero information. But now I could be sure Takada was obsessively devoted to Light, and thus to Kira—making her more dangerous than I had originally assumed. Of course, I would need some kind of solid confirmation. I couldn't simply go by Halle's word anymore, even though she was my only lead.

"…Mello? Are you there? Are you alright?"

I hung up on her and returned to the apartment, parking my motorcycle next to the Godforsaken Camaro. Matt had spent two straight days overhauling the engine, I suppose still semi-self-loathing over the fact that I'd nearly gotten my throat cut because the engine failed. I had observed him now and then through the window as he removed the engine and took it apart piece-by-piece, tweaking and cleaning and reworking it, and then putting it all back together again. His focus was undeniable since he didn't even listen to any music while he worked. When he finished he'd assured me that we'd never have problems with it again. I believed him, but I still wished he had just picked up a new car so we could avoid the problem entirely.

I carried my helmet up the stairs and even before I'd stepped onto our floor I could hear a pounding bass of music. I took a deep breath and hoped it wasn't from our apartment, but the closer I became, the more my hopes died. I stuck the key in the lock and the moment I opened the door, my eardrums were assaulted with a crashing din of heavy metal music. I slammed the door and gritted my teeth as I stomped into the living room, finding him standing in front of the television slamming away at a plastic guitar. His fingers raced up and down across the buttons on the neck, clicking them rapidly as his other hand strummed manically. Colored notes swam down the screen according to the music, and he was bobbing his head to the beat as well, a cigarette clenched in his lips.

I tossed off my jacket and held my hands to my ears as I searched around for the remote. I finally found it under about six chocolate snack wrappers and turned the television off.

Matt jerked forward and threw his hands out. "NO!" he hollered. "No, no, no! What the fuck?" He looked over and saw me there with the remote. "Mello, I was pwning on EXPERT!"

I jammed the remote into his chest. "You won't be doing fucking anything unless you TURN IT DOWN."

"But it's no fun if you can't hear it..."

"Can't HEAR it? The whole goddamn building can hear it! We are trying to keep a low profile, so turn it the fuck down!"

"Okay, okay!" He turned the TV back on to see that he'd failed the song. He lowered the volume not quite halfway and then hit the retry option. "I had a perfect score going, y'know—on EXPERT," he insisted, as if that would matter to me in any way.

"I could care less about your little kid games."

"Kid game? Ha, I'd like to see YOU pwn on expert. Don't think so." He began to throttle the plastic guitar again as the notes flew down the screen, almost too fast to keep track of, and also very tiny. But somehow Matt was hitting every single one. At least it wasn't making my ears bleed anymore. I grabbed a bar of chocolate and sat down in my chair, watching him for a few minutes just to calm myself down. When he finished the song he threw his fists forward. "Fuck, yeah! 100%!" He grinned over at me. "Flawless!"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Since when did you have this game? I don't remember packing that guitar controller."

"Oh, if you disconnect the neck you can store it easier so I had it in my suitcase. I got another one if you wanna play."

"No."

"C'mon, you can customize your players and I actually made some that look like us. Come and play as yourself."

I rubbed my eyelids. "Not now, Matt. Just play on your own."

He paused his game and snuffed out what was left of his cigarette. "Something up, Mello?"

"I'm just fed up with sitting around and waiting for something to break in this case. Sitting and waiting is what Near is good at and I hate it."

"I know how you feel, dude." He started another song.

"I just followed Takada to a dinner meeting with Misa Amane, and she had Halle sit in."

"Man, sounds like a skank convention."

I ignored that. "I thought the conversation might actually be worth knowing, but according to Halle they spent the entire time arguing over which one of them was Light Yagami's woman."

Matt chuckled. "That guy makes me jealous," he joked.

"It's irritating, to say the least."

"I guess there's really nothing else we can do for now though, unless we wanna make a move first. Like I said, I can bug her."

"It's too dangerous to approach her in person," I told him. "I can't take a chance that big."

"Okay…" He spoke as he played. "I suppose even if we figured out what room they were staying in so I could intercept their signal, it'd be too risky."

I lowered my chocolate from where I was about to bite it. "What did you say, Matt?" I demanded, bolting up in my chair.

"Yeah," he continued. "If I could get a room close enough, like above or below maybe, I might be able to intercept their audio transmission. You said the Japanese taskforce was listening in on Takada and Light, so I could try and find out what they're saying, but you said we shouldn't make any moves like that..." He hadn't taken his eyes off his game and his voice was distracted.

"Could you really do that, Matt? Without being detected?"

"Well, they wouldn't know I was hacking them if that's what you mean. I can't be positive that one of her crazy bodyguards won't see me. I dunno how tight they got the place watched and all... With how popular that chick is they might have business blocked off…"

"But if we could get in and get a room we could listen in on their conversation?"

"Sure, IF they really have the room bugged and IF we can get that close…"

"Matt," I said, going over to the TV and shutting it off again. He was in the middle of the song so he threw up his hands again.

"Weak, Mello! C'mon!"

I grabbed him by his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me sooner that you could do this?"

"…Because you said it was too dangerous," he mentioned. "You shot me down when I suggested it the first time."

"When you suggested planting a bug ON Takada, not hacking their transmission from a distance!"

"I figured it was off-limits either way." He took his cigarette from his mouth. "Wait, now you're saying you wanna do it?"

"If at all possible, yes! And soon!"

"Uh, okay, no sweat. I'll get some stuff together tonight and then we can figure out how to find out what room to set up in."

I sighed and shook my head. "Why didn't I think of something like this before? Damn it, I'm off my game." I sat back on the sofa beside him. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

Matt sat down next to me. "Well, you did almost get killed, man. And not for the first time. Anyone would be kinda messed up over that."

"Not me," I argued.

"Yeah, Mello, even you." He put his hand on my back. "You're not totally inhuman, okay? I know that better than anyone. It's okay for you to be a little flustered after getting your throat nearly cut. I mean, I kinda still am, and it wasn't even my throat. So just chill a little, okay? We still got time."

"Matt…" I shook my head. "I hate when you get ideas before I do."

"I know," he said, standing up and turning the TV back on. He resumed his game. "But you can't be a super-genius every second of every day or else you'd be a creepy little hobgoblin like Near, and then you'd NEVER get laid." He chuckled and I kicked him in the ass, making him miss a few notes. "Aw, man!"

I sighed and lounged back on the sofa, eating my chocolate again. Finally, I had something to look forward to.

**December 22, 2009**

**8:05 p.m.**

That evening, after Matt had packed all the equipment he required in his suitcase, leaving all his clothes and toiletries in the apartment, we drove in our separate vehicles to the Teito Hotel. I parked across the street at the restaurant there and he parked in the lot around the side, mulling about until Light and Aizawa showed up. Once they did, I called him to let him know. He casually got out of the car and entered the lobby a few good feet behind them.

The plan we'd come up with was fairly simple: he would go in to overhear what room they reserved and then see if there was one available nearby. I didn't like him standing so close to Kira himself, but this was the only way to find out what room they were in while avoiding Takada's hardcore bodyguards at the same time. It ruffled my nerves as I watched them in the lobby together through my binoculars, Matt with his hands in his pockets, appearing unassuming as he waited in line behind them. He wandered off to get a drink in the machine just as Light and Aizawa went to the elevator. Matt chugged his drink as he returned to the counter, successfully keeping his back turned, out of Light's view. Jesus, he'd come within three feet of Kira and the maniac didn't even have a clue.

Matt spoke to the woman behind the counter and then handed her some cash and took a key card. He came back outside and went to the car, giving me the thumbs-up as he dragged his luggage inside and got in a different elevator.

I waited about five minutes before my cell phone rang and I answered it. "How's it going?"

"They're setting up in suite 1101," he told me. "I got a room above it… I tried to get one as close as possible, but it seems they got a whole six floors reserved for their meetings, so nobody is allowed anywhere near them. I ended up in 1703… I figured I'd have less chance running into them if I was above and not below."

"Good thinking."

"I don't think you should come up here though. If you ran into them on the stairs or the elevator… And Takada's bodyguards will be here soon and they'll probably be everywhere."

"I know. I can't risk it. I'll have to listen to the recording you make later."

"Okay… I'm not at all sure I can hack the signal from this distance… I mean, I SHOULD be able to, but…"

"Just do what you can and watch yourself. I'll let you know when they leave so don't move from that room until they do."

"Got it. I'll call you back."

"Okay." I hung up and waited in the restaurant, eating my food slowly. Aizawa left just before Takada showed up after 9:00. It was about two hours before Takada left with her slew of bodyguards, and then Light followed soon after, getting into a cab in the driveway. I speed-dialed and waited for Matt to pick up. "They're gone," I said.

"Yeah, I figured. I successfully recorded their entire conversation."

"Excellent."

"Should I keep this room so we can listen in on every meeting?"

"…Yes, that's a good idea. Wait another 20 minutes just to be safe and then come back to the apartment. It should be okay if Aizawa happens to see you, but do your best not to let him."

"Okay. I'll leave some equipment here, so I won't have to carry that heavy suitcase in and out and look suspicious. I'll just bring what you need to hear the recording."

"Alright." I hung up and drove back to the apartment. Now that I knew this could work, I wouldn't have to wait outside the hotel every time and put myself at risk. I could just leave it to Matt, whose face was unknown.

**December 22, 2009**

**11:49 p.m.**

Matt entered the apartment with just a messenger bag containing his laptop, and he set it up in front of me on the coffee table, smoke billowing off the end of his lit cigarette. He brought up an audio recording and cranked up the volume.

"I don't know how happy you'll be about what they said," he mentioned before he played it.

There was a little static before a male voice spoke. "…Being with you every night like this gives me the feeling that we're already living together." So this was the voice of Kira. He sounded so young and cheerful, but of course I knew it was an act.

"Me too, Light," replied Takada. She babbled something about how he liked his tea and coffee, and then mentioned the fact that she had a private talk with Amane yesterday.

There was a brief silence and then Light said, "About what…?"

"Well, to be exact, Lidner, my bodyguard was there, so there were three of us." There was another silence. "Amane said that she was going to announce her engagement to you at the show." There was a good pause and I felt my teeth grinding together.

"These fucking women," I groaned. "Can't they think about anything else?" Matt shrugged and leaned back on the couch to smoke, propping his feet on the table.

"Well…" Light began. "She's old news to me now, but I just haven't been able to break the news to her yet…"

"Is that so…?" There was a very long pause here…

"Why so many moments of silence?" I questioned aloud.

"Awkward, maybe?" Matt suggested.

"No, not Light. He's Kira, remember? He's too sharp for that, too slick. He couldn't have killed L unless he was a flawless liar and actor. So why then?"

"I dunno…" Matt sat back up and we both listened as Light finally continued.

"Believe me, Takada, you're the only one for me."

"…'You're the only one for me'? That's so cheesy. It's so unlike you, Light." Takada giggled softly, and then there was another long silence.

"You don't think the bastard is signaling her somehow," I deduced.

"Like how?"

"Can you magnify the sounds in the background?" I asked. Matt got to his knees and turned the laptop toward him, clicking around and then replaying a portion of the recording. He toned down the volume of the speaking and amplified the background noise. I could mostly only hear the noise of the heating unit, but there was something else, right after they spoke… There was another sound, a kind of scraping. "There, Matt. Play that part again, louder." He did and I shut my eyes, listening to it again with Matt's enhancements. "Motherfucker!" I declared.

"What?"

"They're passing notes!" I shook my head. "It's so obvious it's laughable! Light isn't even trying to be discreet anymore! In his head, he's already won!"

"Fuck… That means we can't get anything worthwhile out of what they say then, because they're saying all the important stuff on paper…"

"You may be right…but we already knew that going into this. After all, he can't say anything too incriminating while the taskforce is listening in. What we need is a new piece of information that only he and the taskforce know."

"I'll start it where we left off."

Takada was speaking. "Well…it's up to you from now on, Light… But I'll believe you. But if you're lying, you're going to pay. I'll tell Kira, you know."

Light chuckled. "Great joke, Takada."

"I'm not joking… But Kira…"

"I understand that Kira is a necessity to the world right now, but I can't help wondering when I'm going to be able to be together with you… You're getting busier everyday as Kira's spokesperson, and you've even got guards… Living together in peace is nothing but a dream right now… I'm having trouble caring about the world when the most important thing to me right now is being together with you."

"Light…"

"That guy really is an amazing fucking liar," Matt remarked, grabbing a new PSP, this one red, and starting to play. How many of those things did he have?

"In some ways, I hate Kira for choosing you as a spokesperson… Killing criminals is fine, but we're not criminals… We have the right to pursue our happiness…"

"I want to be happy together…but…that's only possible without Kira…"

"Yeah… If only Kira wasn't around…"

"You're right… Kira should be arrested…?" Takada suddenly sounded unsure of herself. She must've been confused by Light's prompts.

"What?"

"That's right, if we want to be happy, Kira has to be arrested…"

"T-Takada, are you being serious? But that may be possible…"

"Huh? What is?"

"Arresting Kira…"

"L-Light…"

"B-But in order to do that I'm going to need your cooperation, and it's going to be dangerous… I'm going to be going against the police, and you're going to be going against Kira and the whole world…" There was an extremely long silence here.

"L-Light, are you that serious about me?"

"Hmm?"

"That you want to live happily with me…?"

"Yes…of course I'm serious."

"Light…"

"Takada."

"If I'm able to pursue a happy life together by cooperating with you…"

"We'll start off by making comments that will make Kira want to get in contact with you."

"But how would I…"

"Don't worry, I'll think of them."

"Okay."

The remainder of their conversation consisted of hasty ideas and then warm, nauseating goodbyes. Then the recording ended. "The only thing after this was some dishes clanking and someone walking, and then they shut the equipment off," Matt explained. "Told you they didn't say much."

"They said something," I told him. "Did you hear Light guide her where he wanted? Now the taskforce will be thrown off his trail, and Near's focus will shift to Takada... I doubt Near will fall for something like that though, but it might distract him for a while…"

"Damn. And just when we were pwning too."

I sighed. "I assume that means winning."

"Pretty much, but with a lot more enthusiasm."

"Whatever. Let's listen in on a few more of their conversations… Then I can decide from there."

"You think the taskforce knows about the note passing? I mean, you noticed it in like five seconds…"

"I have no idea. Aizawa… He went to Near… It seems like he's the most suspicious and the most diligent—ever since Yagami's death anyway." I cracked off a piece of chocolate after unwrapping a bar. "Chances are at least one of them has figured it out, but can they really do anything about it? Without proof, they're just throwing accusations around. And if they're in contact with Near he's most likely instructed them to stay out of it…"

"Yeah." Matt tapped his thumbs on the buttons of his PSP again, and I heard faint crashing and yelling coming from it. "So Light pretty much has Takada wrapped around his little finger, and she and Misa are cat-fighting, and now Halle is mixed up with Takada… Near is after Light and so is Aizawa, but neither of them can prove he's Kira… And someone is running around Japan with Shinigami Eyes killing people in the name of Kira… This just keeps getting more complicated."

"Yes. The biggest problem is that Light is communicating with his proxy now. We had a better chance when he was left to his own devices and could have slipped up."

"Maybe he still will. I mean, it's not like Light can talk directly to the guy with the hotel room bugged. If he's just passing notes to Takada, that means she's telling the guy later on by phone call, right?"

"Yes. She's far too public to be meeting with him face to face, and that would be just plain stupid of her anyway. If she's obeying Light's orders, she won't make any stupid moves like that."

"Maybe his proxy will get fed up with taking orders from Takada and make a move on his own?"

"It's possible… If I could somehow force him to make an unpredictable move, something Kira hadn't planned on…then maybe… But there's no real way to be sure without finding out WHO he or she is…"

"I guess you're right."

I exhaled through my nose and took another bite of chocolate. "I wonder how Kira went about choosing his proxy when he's been under constant surveillance…"

"You're sure he was under surveillance WHILE he chose the guy?"

"Why else would he choose a new one? Misa Amane could have handled it like she'd been doing up to that point, but he had her relinquish her memories of the Death Note and give it to someone else. That means he had to be under suspicion, and with Amane being his live-in girlfriend at that point, she was definitely under suspicion too. He had no choice but to send the power to someone else, someone free, someone he'd never even met."

"Still seems like a risky move to me."

"Yes, to bestow Kira's powers upon a complete stranger, without even being able to speak with them in person… It was a bold gamble, but proof that he was out of other options. That's why I'm sure I can manipulate his proxy's moves somehow, if even indirectly… If I could just find out who he is…"

"Maybe we'll get some kind of clue from listening to them."

"That's what I'm hoping, but I just don't know. I don't have much to go on at all. If I could figure out HOW Light chose his proxy…maybe I could find him the same way… No, in fact, I'm sure I could."

"Okay, well, WHAT would Light be able to do in front of the taskforce every day without being suspicious?" It was quiet a moment until Matt lowered his PSP and looked over at me, his eyebrows lifting. "Watch TV?"

"Of course!" I cracked off another hunk of chocolate and sat up straight, thinking it through. "Of course, Matt! Even if Light was watching Kira-focused programs all day every day, it wouldn't be suspicious because it would just look like he was investigating! Websites too, possibly, although that might be risky because they could check his browsing history later… But TV, definitely." I glanced at him. "You're sharp lately."

He shrugged. "Thanks, I guess… So Light just happened to notice someone who was nuts for Kira, and took a shot?"

"Come to think of it…" I stood up abruptly. "Sakura TV!"

"Huh?"

"Demegawa was killed live on Sakura TV," I said. "That was the proxy communicating with Kira, telling him he received his powers and understood! Light could never have killed Demegawa while sitting right there in front of the taskforce, so that must have been the proxy's first big move, his initiation. That must have been how Light could tell he could trust in his new proxy. They understand each other. The proxy knew that he could prove himself by killing Demegawa and Light saw his potential once he carried out his wishes without being told. Not to mention, since it happened on live television, some of the suspicion on Light would be lifted, as he obviously couldn't be the one doing the killing."

"Damn," Matt remarked. "Do you think we could find this guy?"

"Matt, I want recordings of every pro-Kira or even remotely Kira-related rally, talk show, interview, and variety program that aired on local stations in Japan from November 11th until the day Takada was chosen as Kira's spokesperson—December 1st…"

"That's a lot of shows, dude."

"I'm aware of that…" I touched my chin. "To narrow it down, cut it back to ONLY those programs that Takada was on."

"I'm on it." He turned off his PSP and set his laptop on his knees, popping his fingers before he began to type and click away. He removed a USB drive from his jeans pocket and plugged it in as he worked. He only paused to light a new cigarette, and I dumped his full ashtray before I set it on the table in front of him. He tapped the end of his cigarette off in it without taking his eyes from the screen. "Hey, Mello, could you grab me a drink…?" he mumbled, already absorbed in his task. I grabbed one of his chocolate sodas and handed it to him after popping it open. "Thanks…" He grabbed his cigarette in one hand and chugged the drink with his other, then set down the can, replaced the cig, and clicked around. Distorted heavy metal music began to pour from his laptop speakers and he turned the volume up.

"How long?" I asked, sitting back down in my chair.

"Not sure," he answered. "That's a lot of programs to sift through…"

"No need to rush. Be thorough, Matt."

"A couple hours then, maybe."

"Alright."

**December 23, 2009**

**2:38 a.m.**

"I think I found them all," Matt said a couple hours later. "I even saved a couple freaky game shows that were Kira themed." I came over and he handed me the laptop. "I separated them into folders by air date."

"Good, Matt."

"Want some help looking through them?"

"…It would be good to have a second pair of eyes on these… Tell me if anyone or anything strikes you."

"Got it."

For hours we browsed the pro-Kira or any other interview-based programs, sifting through a seemingly endless loop of drivel and tripe, listening to the different comments made. I found it unlikely Light would choose a talk show host or some other well-recognized public figure to pass his powers to, so I focused more on the guests, or the members of the audiences. I noticed a few individuals who perhaps stood out, whether in intelligence or devotion, or both. Matt even pointed out a few who seemed more reserved, but one could tell they were somehow off, perhaps fanatics, perhaps true pious worshippers. There was definitely a difference between those simply afraid to die and those truly devoted to Kira's will.

I moved the programs that had struck a cord in me to a separate folder, and for another hour I skimmed through them a few times, reviewing, focused, trying to follow my instincts.

"What you got, Mello?" Matt asked.

"There's a few…" I answered absently, and then watched them all again, listening. Matt declined to play any loud games or music while I was doing so, thankfully. I heard him shuffle around in the kitchen, microwaving something, but it was in the furthest corner of my attention. It was more than another hour later before I said, "This man."

Matt put down his PSP and leaned over to look at the screen. "Did you find him?"

"There's no way for me to be certain," I said, "but something about this man… I recognize him."

"You recognize him? Where else have you seen him?"

"No, Matt, I mean I recognize something about him. His eyes, the way he speaks, the way he moves… The way his mouth is set and how he walks… It's familiar. He's demented, but not insane. He's a killer."

"How can you tell?"

"Because I'm the same way. I recognized it in Light Yagami as well."

"…Oh." He watched the video clip I had pulled up with me. Takada was interviewing him on a special about the rebuilding of Japan, due to the fact that he was a very successful prosecutor. "Yeah, that guy does kinda give me the creeps… I've known YOU since we were kids so you don't bother me, but this guy does seem familiar…like you, like Near, like L… His face seems similar…sorta detached."

I frowned a little at his comment, but overlooked it. He was just telling the truth. "Yes, but he also has a menace in his face… He's deluded. The way he speaks about Kira…is frighteningly committed to the point of blind mania, but even so, he's still very calm and collected. His emotions are blank, but inside he's a murderer… I can tell, trust me."

"So…you think this is the guy?"

"Thanks to this video from "Kira's Kingdom" that took place four days after Demegawa's death, he's on the top of my list."

"Which video?"

I brought up the video of the man volunteering to speak, and turned up the volume before I played it. "I would very much like to hear Kira's voice again. And I intend to follow your ideals. I believe that following your orders and teachings is the quickest way to achieve world peace. Kira, please let me hear your voice. If there are no orders or words from Kira…I believe that I am going to have to judge by myself what Kira's thoughts may be, and put them into action." I stopped it.

"Sorta sounds like he's talking directly to Kira," Matt mentioned.

"Precisely. And four days after this aired, Takada was chosen as the new spokesperson for Kira."

"So this guy has been on more than one show with Takada, right?"

"Yes, he's been on two of them twice, so he would know she was loyal to Kira's ideals. He had personal reference, and could have chosen her with confidence. The fact that Light already knew Takada from college was just a happy coincidence for him." I played the video again on mute, just watching his face. "There are four other possibilities, though. I want you to do a check on all of them. Find out all you possibly can; background, family status, education, prior records, and any detail they provided for Kira programs... Everything."

"By the time I'm done you'll have dental records." He took the laptop and began checking the names of the five people I'd pointed out. It took him a couple more hours, but then he handed me the laptop again. "You got a folder for each person, which includes the videos you noticed them in."

I clicked around, bringing up the first one, which was a young man, perhaps college age, with a sharp sensibility in his speech and a very clear loyalty. Shinji Sagusa was his name, and he lived at home with his parents. The next was an older man, perhaps early 40s, with a fanatical enthusiasm, named Takumi Houji, who was divorced with a few children. The next was a woman who was employed as a social worker, and had to deal with suffering children every day. She was called Yuka Kurosawa, and was a single mother of one. The next was a man who worked in a prison and had been underappreciated his entire life. He went by the name Minoru Shijo, and was single.

And the last man, the top of my list, worked as a legal prosecutor, and was apparently very good at his job. He had no family, no spouse, no children, and no real social relationships at all to speak of. It seemed his work was his life, but I knew in his face I could see more. I could see death. His name was Teru Mikami.

"So it's one of those five, huh?" Matt asked.

"As L would say, I'm over 70% sure it's one of these five… But, of course, that's assuming Light DID use pro-Kira television shows to choose his proxy. These could just be a handful of lunatics that have nothing to do with the case at all… A dead end."

"Nah, Mello, go with your gut." I looked up at him. "We got nothing else to go on, and you haven't seemed this sure about anything in a while. Don't doubt yourself just because of the odds, you never do that. Fuck the odds and let's go with it."

He was right again. He continued to surprise me lately, coming up with ideas before I did and encouraging me when usually he would just nod and consent to anything while offering no insight of his own. Things really had been changing between us ever since I blew the Mafia base, and especially recently. At first I was annoyed at things altering so much so quickly, but I wasn't so sure it was a bad thing anymore. Perhaps I could adapt to this, use it to my advantage.

I nodded. "I will."


	22. Chapter 21

**+Part 21+**

**December 23, 2009**

**10:34 a.m.**

Matt tried to insist that I sleep after pulling the all-nighter, but my mind was far too busy—plotting, scheming, planning... Matt took a power nap on the couch while I reviewed every single speck of detail of background information on my five suspects. I was able to narrow it down even further by inspecting the audience evaluation sheets passed out on "Kira's Kingdom." The final question was especially intriguing: "What do you think of Kira?"

My first suspect, Shinji Sagusa, was a very diligent college student with good grades, no slumps, and apparently had a steady girlfriend. His answer to the final question had been, "I think Kira is a role model for those of us who are weak in action but strong in mental fortitude. He is a guide for the intellectual." This could have possibilities, but it was not strong enough of a conviction for me. Suspect number two, Takumi Houji, was a construction worker known to have a violent temper. His answer was, "Kira should KILL every single useless human being!" Interesting, but not fitting. Suspect number three, Yuka Kurosawa the social worker, answered, "Kira is the future of our children and our grandchildren. He will be the light of the world." Ironic, but again, too weak of a conviction to strike me. Minoru Shijo, the prison guard, answered simply, "My savior." This seemed to elevate him up on the list, but again, all of these requests were proper and very personal—not indicative of someone operating solely on the input of Kira's will.

By the time I was down to a third of my chocolate bar, I came to Teru Mikami's answer, and then I was certain. The question, "What do you think of Kira?" had been answered bluntly with a single word: "God." Out of every individual I'd observed, this man was the one most likely to be Kira's new proxy. I finished my chocolate in the dead silence of morning, and felt something between my shoulders loosen and clench sporadically. I was excited again, and felt a smile spread on my lips.

I let Matt sleep while I went out and picked up some adequate food. I could get by on nothing but chocolate for days if need be, but I knew Matt was out of groceries, and if I had him buy them we'd just end up with more instant lunch bowls and a ton of chips. I was back within an hour and he was still asleep. Of course, I don't think he'd ever woken of his own volition. I put the food away and started a meal of vegetable-chicken pasta cooking on the stove. I boiled another kettle of water to make myself some tea and him some coffee.

After a few minutes of the food simmering, I heard him stir and groan just as I expected. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and scratching his head. "That smells good," he mumbled, yawning and stretching before he stood. His goggles were dangling around his neck. He fixed his hair hastily with his fingers as he strolled into the kitchen.

"Don't you ever brush your hair?" I demanded, returning to what I was doing.

"Eh," was his answer. "You actually cooking?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, pouring our mugs full. I handed him his with a spoon in it so he could stir in the coffee mix. He did so and then sipped it.

"Nothing really, just never…seen you do it before. I'm kinda surprised, I guess."

"You shouldn't be. There's hardly anything I can't do and do well."

"Oh yeah?" He drank some more coffee. "Except be nice."

I scoffed. "As if you could cook a decent meal or something," I sneered at him.

"I could if I felt like it, but it always takes too long. I'd rather just microwave it fast and eat it."

I sighed and stirred it one last time before I turned off the stove and shoved a plate at him. I served myself and then returned to the living room, sitting in my chair to eat and turning on the television to listen to the news. He served himself a gigantic helping and then plopped himself on the sofa and inhaled it messily with some leftover chopsticks from his last noodle bowl. He titled his head sideways and dangled the clump of food from the utensils, gathering the ends with his tongue and then slurping the rest into his mouth where he chewed. He would then sip his coffee and repeat the grotesque process. He opened a laptop in the midst of his repulsive display and started playing Tetris while he ate. I tried to ignore him and enjoy my own food.

I poked around through my files on Mikami a little more. I had a raw, strong gut feeling about him that I wasn't ready to let go. Matt was correct; this was the best lead I'd discovered in a while, and it was really the only thing I had to go on. Listening in on Light's and Takada's conversations probably wouldn't reveal anything too groundbreaking, although I would continue to try. If I could find Mikami, so could Near. I had to figure out something to do with this information.

"Matt," I said.

"Mmm?" he hummed with his mouth full.

"The more I look into it, the more certain I am about Mikami."

He finished chewing and swallowed. "The creepy lawyer guy with the long black hair?"

"Yes. I was looking through these 'Kira's Kingdom' supporter questionnaires you found… One of the last questions is, 'What do you think of Kira?' Mikami's answer was just the word 'God'."

"Whoa, what a nutjob."

"And his message to Kira on that last 'Kira's Kingdom' program… Four days after Demegawa's death and four days before Takada was chosen… It almost seems too perfect…" I took another couple bites and then sipped my tea. "But everything adds up. He was in the perfect position to observe Takada's devotion and have his devotion be observed by Light Yagami. It said his mother was killed by a car a bunch of his drunk classmates were driving when he was a teenager…and that he was the representative of his class every year in middle school… He passed through high school with perfect grades… He sounds very much like Light Yagami, only with poorer social skills."

"Match made in heaven," Matt remarked, finishing off his coffee and then standing to go for the kitchen.

"Take your dishes to the sink," I barked.

He halted and turned back, picking up his plate and mug. He dumped them in the sink and then took out his last chocolate soda, popping it open. He tipped it back and then wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. "So what should we do about him?"

"Find him, first of all," I thought aloud. "Then we can split up—you can keep an eye on Takada and I can keep an eye on him. I can figure out how to move against them, and thus find a way to Kira."

"Okay."

**December 23, 2009**

**10:13 p.m.**

I was across the street from Mikami's home, leaning against my bike in an alley between two houses. I had my binoculars focused on his single lighted window. I'd removed the bandages from my neck once my wound was healed over, and it still itched, but it was bearable.

I speed-dialed Matt and waited for him to pick up. "How's it going?" I asked.

"They're here and they've only been talking for a couple minutes…about nothing really. Kinda making me sick actually. If only lines this cheap worked on YOU."

I shut my eyes and exhaled. "I followed Mikami home from work. He came straight here and hasn't left. There's been a single light on in the same room for just about an hour."

"So we're both bored as hell. Wanna ditch and meet up for a lay?"

"Matt, keep your head in the game."

"Yeah, I know. I'll let you know if anything interesting happens."

"Okay." He hung up and I stowed my phone back in my jacket. It was getting colder at night, so I started wearing one of my warmer shirts. The under-shirt was white and hooded and the layer on top was long-sleeved black leather with several zippers covering it all over. I kept the hood up and my leather jacket collar lifted to conceal myself. I kept an eye on Mikami's window as I removed a bar of chocolate from my inner jacket and snapped off the corner. I chewed and swallowed as I dialed Halle's number and put the phone to my ear.

"I can't talk long," she said quietly. "I'm in the Lady's room but the rest of Takada's bodyguards don't leave me alone very long."

"Who is Near's suspect?" I asked.

"…He doesn't have one yet," she answered. I chuckled. "What's wrong?"

"You're finally lying to me, Halle."

"…Mello…"

"I understand. Near has you under his thumb. It was only a matter of time, after all… It's the way he is. Fittingly enough, he has an overwhelming influence over those near him. Most people can't overcome it, so don't feel too bad."

"That's not it," she insisted impatiently. "Mello, I…"

"He's already been using you, Halle. He hasn't asked you to do a single thing in the field until he needed you for this. And what are you really doing? Just babysitting that brainless twit of a woman. And I'm sure you noticed he ensured you were the only decent-looking, Caucasian woman out of the entire bunch. He essentially utilized you as a pretty prop. Meanwhile, I'm certain he has Rester and Gevanni doing the real work." I cracked off another piece of chocolate.

"…Why are you telling me all this?" she asked.

"No real reason. I'm sure you've already figured it all out, a smart woman like you." I was completely baiting her. "And I'm sure you already know Near wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice any of your lives if it was for the benefit of advancing even the slightest in the case. He would let you die for a single clue, of course…he'd ask you first." I snickered lightly.

"I'm sure he wouldn't…" she began.

I chuckled again. "As long as you're sure. He probably knows you're the least cooperative—that's why he sent you off to be monopolized by Takada. He pretty much got you out of the way."

"Mello…" She sighed. "I know. I know all that…but what choice do I have?"

"Cooperate with me," I offered.

"I am. I've already told you so much… If Near knew how I'd been helping you, he would probably have me confined and monitored."

"Which is precisely why you should be on my side. Tell me you won't lie to me again, Halle. Tell me I'm going to win, and that you'll be there when I do."

She was silent for a long time. "Mello…" She was quiet again, just breathing into the line. "I don't know what to say. I thought…you wanted me between you and Near."

"I do—on the surface. But underneath I want your loyalties with me. That's just the way I am, Halle. My pride won't allow you any more leniencies. I need reassurance that you're with me and not Near. I won't tolerate your instability anymore, not this far into the game. I'm done with such useless risks. Either you're with me or our commune is over. There is no longer a neutral ground in this war."

"Mello…"

"Choose now, Halle, before I hang up this phone—me or Near."

I heard her inhale sharply and then start to speak. She cut herself off, and then started again. "You, Mello," she whispered. "It's always been you."

"Good," I said. "That's what I like to hear."

"…I have to go now, Mello. They'll start to wonder where I am. Can I call you back? I know you said not to try and call your number, but…"

"You can, but it won't go through. Just let it go to voicemail and I'll call you back right after."

"Okay. Good night, Mello. Be careful." I hung up and put my phone away again, cracking off more chocolate. Hopefully, if she was telling the truth, I could at least depend on Halle enough to effectively use her to my advantage. I smirked to myself.

Matt called back about an hour later. "They cut it kinda short," he mentioned. "Light told her some comments to make on NHN, they blabbed some about living together and building a life and blah, blah, blah…and that's about it."

"Okay. I'll listen to the recording later." I glanced up, noticing Mikami's light turn off. "I don't think I'm going to get anything out of watching Mikami tonight, so I'll just make sure and then head back."

"Okay. I'm heading back now. See ya there."

"Later." I hung up and watched a while longer before I drove across town back to the apartment. I found Matt upside-down on the sofa, clicking away on his plastic guitar. I tossed off my jacket and set down my helmet, finishing off my chocolate as I leaned my elbow on the back of the couch and stared down at him. "How the hell can you play that upside-down?"

"Mad skills," he replied, and continued slamming away rapidly at the colored buttons and strum bar on what I assumed was expert mode. He wasn't missing any and I shook my head. His ashtray was already mostly full again and two packs of his Pocky were lying empty on the coffee table beside soda cans and potato chip bags.

"Did you go buy more junk food?"

"Once I managed to find some that weren't, like, shrimp-flavored. Vomit."

I sat on the sofa in front of his open laptop. "Is the recording set up to hear?"

"Hold on, song's almost over." He finished up the last chorus and then turned over, sitting up and quitting the game. He ruffled his hair and then set the controller aside, muting the TV with his other hand. He tapped around with the cursor and brought it up, cranking the volume. I listened to their conversation, but Matt was right; there was nothing worth hearing. "Told ya."

I closed the laptop and leaned back, spreading my legs and leaning my chin on my knuckles. "I'll have to follow Mikami some more to determine whether he's suspicious or not." I rubbed my forehead and then briefly brushed my fingertips across the scarring on my face. I wondered a bit if I did that often. I couldn't really recall, because if I did it was involuntary.

A few silent moments passed before Matt laid his head on my thigh, pulling his goggles down from his eyes and looking up at me. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"…Same thing you're doing."

"And what's that?" I demanded, looking away from him, trying to ignore his invasive position.

"Thinking," he replied.

I hacked a skeptical chuckle. "Miracles do happen." I took my fingers from my face and made a fist with that hand. "About what?"

"…I dunno, lots of stuff. The case, I guess, but you mostly."

"Me?"

"Yeah." He didn't move from where he lay on my thigh, just lounging, one boot propped on the other armrest. "Thinking of that one time, back at Wammy's, when we got in big trouble."

"THAT's specific," I grumbled.

"No, I mean when we REALLY got in BIG trouble, that one time…" He grinned crookedly. "Remember? When we got cleaning duty for three months straight, and all our computer and television privileges were taken away?"

"Oh… That." I sighed. "That was your fault for getting us caught."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure you were the one who fell out of the tree, Mel."

I blinked, my brow furrowing, and glared down at him. "Don't call me that ever again," I said through my teeth. "I believe I established that law when we were eight."

"Yeah, I remember." He chuckled softly. "…That one time…we were like ten or eleven, right?"

"…Yeah."

"I crashed Roger's and Watari's computers with porn to keep them busy, and then we stole those matches… I thought you just wanted to mess around with them, but then you lit the playhouse on fire, trying to burn that kid who pulled your hair that day." He snickered faintly. "But it spread faster than you thought and the kid was screaming inside, so we ran off to hide. You dragged me up that big tree in the yard. I thought you were dead when you fell out of it…"

"I wouldn't have fallen if you would've just climbed."

"I was, but you kept trying to make me go faster. That branch broke and you fell and your arm wouldn't stop bleeding… They got that kid out of the playhouse and Near told on us so you got your blood all over him just to try and piss him off…"

"It didn't work," I hissed.

"No, and then you wouldn't let me get any adults…so I tried to stop the blood, but it wouldn't stop… Roger was so pissed once you got treated, and Watari gave us a lecture. We both got in so much trouble... Fuck, I don't even think I realized how scared I was that you were dead until after it was all over…"

I sighed. "I lived."

"Yeah… Watari told L though, and he talked to us through the computer… You were really upset when he told you that revenge wasn't the same as justice… You only ever felt bad when it was L."

I remembered that well. L hadn't been angry or scolding me, and that fact alone had made it all the more poignant for me. He was the first person who didn't simply punish or condemn me—but genuinely tried to help me by correcting. I'd locked myself in my room for a few nights after that, not upset as Matt thought, but contemplative. The difference between justice and revenge is that one is for others and one is for yourself. I knew from that day on that I was too selfish for universal justice, and that my accomplishments would be paved for my advancement alone. I never told L how I felt, but I knew now that he would have told me whatever I wanted was fine, as long as it was what I believed. He went after Kira according to his own sense of justice, and I'm going after Kira according to my own sense of revenge. I know they're two very different things, but that's the way I am, and I offer no apologies for it.

"He just told me to practice my tree climbing," Matt said, laughing quietly again. "I only ever respected two people, L and you. Anybody else isn't worth the energy."

"…Why are we talking about this, Matt?"

"Like I said…I was just thinking." He tilted his head so his brow was pressed to my stomach, crumpling his red hair against my leather. "Ever since I met you, you've been fearless, always charging ahead impulsively…and I've always been the complete opposite. It doesn't really make much sense when I actually stop to think it over…"

I stared down at him, my eyes twitching. "What doesn't make sense?"

"Everything," he commented. "Everything about Kira and Shinigami and L and Near… How everything ended up this way… And everything about you and me. Doesn't make sense." He scratched his face a little. "Doesn't matter I guess, it was just random. Too much upside-down gaming, maybe."

I looked away again before I looked back at him. His sunken, lazy eyes were half-lidded, the green of them blotted by his dark eyelashes. He appeared almost comfortable there, just lying on my thigh. The scent of smoke emanated from him like his own personal atmosphere, dousing me before I knew it. I seemed to always be doused in it, day and night, no matter where I went or what I did. And I had gotten accustomed to it sometime long ago in the past, and never even realized—or maybe I just didn't want to.

"Matt."

"Hnn?"

I moved my gloved hand to his hair, curling my fingers into it, not sure why I felt like doing so. "I don't get it either, but I don't devote any excess thought to it, and neither should you."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Because there's no need for it. If it works, don't question it. If you can use it and make it yours, then it's just a waste of time and energy to try and define it. The same goes for L and for us. Questions are just a waste, so forget them."

He smiled a little. "Sounds good to me, Mel."

I snapped my eyes shut and growled in my throat. "Matt," I warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just messing with you because it's easy." He reached up and slid his hand through my hair to grip the tresses at the back of my skull. "If we spent too much time trying to figure each other out, we'd go nuts anyway."

"For once, we agree completely." He flashed an edge of teeth through the corner of his lips, still playing with my hair.

"I remember your hair used to curl a little at the ends, when it was longer…when we were little. I wonder if it still will."

I frowned. "…You know what I remember from those days?" I mentioned, an evil idea coming to my mind. His little stroll down memory lane inspired me to be cruel to him.

"What?"

I dragged the very tip of my index finger from one of his cheekbones to the other. The cut there was pretty much healed. "Your freckles," I said.

"Aw, you had to bring THAT up," he griped, releasing my hair and grabbing my wrist, taking my hand from his face. "I don't wanna think about it."

"You still have some."

He snarled his lip. "I know."

"Sensitive?" I taunted, smiling cruelly.

"…Not any more than you are about your figure, Princess."

I slapped him across the head with my free hand. "Get off of me, you bastard."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to." He sat up and then turned on his hip, grabbing the back of my head and pulling our mouths together. I jerked away and pushed him roughly by his face. "Cut it out."

"Why?" he repeated.

"I'm not in the mood right now."

"…Y'know, maybe if YOU bothered to kiss ME once in a while, I wouldn't have to keep taking shots in the dark," he grumbled.

I raised my brow at him, widening one eye in disbelief. "And why would I do that?"

He shrugged. "You've only kissed me once since we were twelve, and that time in the arcade I was too shocked to make the most of it. So how about it?"

I shoved him again. "Keep dreaming, jackass. Now get off me."

"How about I get you off instead?" His lips returned to mine. I grabbed his shoulders to keep him at bay, but he wrapped his arm around me, snatching my hair again, and then snapped open my belt buckle with the other. My tongue contended with his as it swam eagerly in circles, tainting me to the back of my throat with the coarse taste of ash and tar. When he withdrew, I was nonresponsive with the same irritated look steady on my face. He heaved a sigh and jutted out his bottom lip. "Fine. I guess I'll get started on the Endless Setlist since you're in a bitchy mood…"

He turned away, sitting up and putting one foot on the floor to stand from the couch. I licked my lips once before I darted my hand out to snag the back of his shirt with sudden, mad compulsion, yanking it fiercely towards me. He toppled backward, his upper body crashing hard into my lap. He lunged up with a look of twisted offense, but before he could gather enough breath to yell I shoved our faces together. He stiffened in a rush and I watched in mild amusement as his eyes grew to three times their normal size.

I kept my eyes open as I explored to my own content the interior of his hot mouth, licking his tongue, feeling my own mouth start to water. A spark of fire ignited somewhere like a struck match, making every muscle in my body taut and my loins clench. Suddenly I wanted to dominate him in every way possible. I pulled away after a couple minutes of sloppy, unhinged struggling for breath, trailing a thread of saliva between us. It left a wet path down his chin so I leaned my neck forward and licked it, noticing his eyes falter, narrowing.

"Happy now?" I demanded. "Will you shut up or do I have to make a point…?"

He seemed speechless, so I didn't give him any more time to come up with something. I let my tongue slither across his jaw and down the thick line of his pulse, lapping against his neck. I felt him swallow beneath my touch, his Adam's apple bobbing forward. He'd missed quite a few stray hairs below his chin when he shaved last, and they scraped my tongue as I smoothed it over him.

His hands came to clutch hold of my shoulders, his fingers digging under against me. I stretched his goggles over his head and dropped them, moving my tongue down to the hollow below his Adam's apple and then lower to his clavicle. He shifted his weight, bracing with his legs so he could wriggle out of his shirt and toss it aside. He held himself upright with both hands grabbing the back of the couch as I craned my spine, bending to continue over his chest, following suit with my fingers. The muscle here was firm in its planes, but not extremely thick, and moving on I could feel the subtle shapes of his ribs. I couldn't get any lower at this angle so I maneuvered out from under him. He shuffled awkwardly to assist me, pushing against the floor with the heel of one boot and against the couch cushion with the other. I ended up crouching between his open legs, gazing curiously at the dazed expression on his face. His lips were hanging open, still damp.

I put my hands on either side of his waist and then dipped my head back into his stomach, resuming my teasing of his heating flesh with my tongue. When I came to his belly, his muscles there flexed and I heard him exhale. I stared at him with a sharp smirk, waiting, feeling his abdomen lift in anticipation and tremble from the strain as his teeth came together.

"Why'd you stop?" he muttered.

"I shouldn't?" I questioned slyly. "Haven't I made my point yet?"

"No," he half-pleaded. "You're fucking wicked with your tongue, Mello… Never knew…"

"Oh?" I placed my palms on both his thighs, sliding them upward, using more force in my grip the closer I got to his groin. His face flinched and he let out another chest full of air. "Should I keep going then?"

"Yeah," he affirmed.

"Really," I remarked, sliding my thumbs up his fly and inducing a groan before I gripped the buckle of his belt. He blew out his air in a hiss through his teeth as I tore open his belt and then unzipped his jeans. I trickled the tip of my tongue from his belly downward, tugging the hem of his boxer shorts along the way, meeting the fine crest of red hair on his pelvis. "Matt," I said, pausing just above his hardening erection as it bulged within the patterned cotton.

"W-What?" he mumbled.

"Maybe I've changed my mind."

He sat up a little, staring at me. "Huh? You can't be serious…"

"I don't know why I should reward you for being obstinate," I continued, my hand brushing that area of his boxers. "If I do that, you'll just hang on to the idea that you can misbehave and I won't punish you for it."

"Fuuuck…" he groaned, grabbing a clump of his hair. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry… Sorry…"

"You won't talk to me like that again?"

"Nuh uh," he insisted, nudging himself closer to me. "Never."

"…Maybe this will help you remember that."

I uncovered his hard-on, just licking the tip at first. He groaned behind his pressed-together lips, so I licked all along it in slow gliding motions, watching his face tighten and his eyelids tremble as his moans passed stutteringly through his slackened lips. I grabbed the base abruptly in one hand, making him grunt out loud before I slid my mouth over the ever-expanding girth of his cock. He moaned with a husky tone as I went through the motions, applying what I'd learned and also exerting my natural ingenuity. This was only my second time doing this but I wasn't willing to accept a below average performance from myself. I sped up my pace, taking more of him deeper, bringing out his voice in broken volumes.

"M-Mello, I'm—" I pulled away swiftly before he could come, leaving him hard, throbbing, and half-gasping. I could taste the saltiness of his premature discharge on my tongue. He tried to catch his breath as he looked up at me, watching as I removed my gloves and threw them. "Jesus, Mello," he sputtered.

"What?" I demanded, straddling him, putting further strain on his dick as I slowly rubbed against it with the tight leather of my pants.

His eyes squinted and fluttered before he lifted his hands and gripped my arms, fidgeting under me. "…I only told you to kiss me, y'know," he said, deprived of oxygen, still painfully erect, his face blooming with color.

"Since when have I ever done what YOU told me to do?" I remarked.

"Yeah, well, I suppose I should know my place by now, huh?"

"If you want to keep THIS," I stated, pushing my crotch against his again to emphasize my words, making him moan weakly, "you'd better."

"…But what if I don't quite get it yet…? What if I need a demonstration? Show me who's really boss, Boss."

"You really think I'm going to spoil you like that?" I questioned, not exactly sure what he was getting at.

"Well, I am a dog…so even if you beat me I'll still lick your hand… Even if you make me bleed I'll still come back for more. Controlling is the same thing as spoiling. So why not give it a go?"

He reached up and pulled down the zipper of my leather shirt, and I freed myself from it before I yanked the undershirt over my head next. He extended his hands and undid my belt all the way while I watched, partially admiring the deft manner in which his fingers worked. He ripped apart the cords of my drawstring fly, struggling to get my pants down after that. I pushed up onto all fours so I could wrench my boots off and then he sat up and together we stripped off my pants. In the process, I ended up flat on top of him, which he immediately took advantage of by hurling our lips together, melding the flavors of salty tobacco with a hint of chocolate.

His warm, callused hand was stroking my shaft without warning, sending my spine into an arc, making me moan with a repressed timbre in my throat. "I must be crazy," he whispered against my lips, his breathing heating the moisture there.

"Why?" I demanded lowly, my skin threatening to slide away the longer he stroked me.

"…Because I'm seriously wanting you to fuck me right now." I lifted my head and narrowed my eyes. "Yeah, I know, right? But you make me want it. You're just so dangerous, deadly, a threat to any sane, ordinary human being—so fucking you gets me off like I never thought I could. It's like fucking Death." He chuckled with a tawny gruffness. "But then again…" He grabbed my hair again, yanking it hard. "I've always wanted to know what it's like to really be your bitch… So what do you think?"

"You ARE my bitch," I found myself saying, unable to contain it or explain the rush of vile emotion. "I own everything you are—and you'd better know that you can't so much as cut your finger without realizing that every drop of the blood belongs to me."

He smiled, one corner of his mouth tweaking up further than the other. "It's always been that way," is what he said.

"And you'd better know that I'm the only one who fucks you, the only one who owns you. Your leash isn't a long one, Matt. I'm not so generous."

He smiled bigger, tugging us together by my hair. "I like to hear that," he chuckled. "So remind me. Fuck me like the bitch I am, huh?"

I considered only briefly, unwilling to compromise my pride under his scrutiny. I had never performed this way physically, but there was absolutely no reason why I couldn't do so, and excel at it. No questions. I managed to keep watching him as I pulled his jeans and undergarment down past his knees, seeing him continue to smirk as I slathered my tongue over two fingers and then pushed them into him, forcing him to groan briefly and clench his fists. I felt him out hastily, my inexperience begging me to be anxious, cautious, but his faltering face was too distracting. Maybe I wanted to hurt him, even—cause him pain the same way he caused me pain, or more so. I wanted the power over his flesh and blood that he had thus far been allowed to wield over me.

"That kinda hurts," he mumbled, only encouraging me. I had a sudden, vicious desire to be cruel.

I sat up on my knees, snatching his hair and bringing him forward against me. "You should know what to do next, unless you want me to tear you apart," I said menacingly.

"Tough decision," he muttered, snickering, and I snarled and jerked his face towards my lap. He grabbed hold of my ass in both hands before he started to suck me, rapidly, letting his teeth graze as his head swayed. I contained my voice until he pulled away, leaving me drenched just as I planned. He looked up at me, his foggy green eyes still relaxed, but his whole body was heaving and blushing, betraying his apprehension. I found that I liked it, which was a very dangerous thing. I also liked torture, murder, and intimidation. Was this another thing to add to the very short list of endeavors I thoroughly and earnestly enjoyed?

I shoved him back and then ripped his boots and garments away, satisfying my ego by stripping him naked beneath me. I heaved his legs up and thrust my way inside, determined not to hesitate. He grunted loudly, a guttural noise of pure pain, and then clamped his teeth, trying to hold it in. That sound was sinfully delicious to my ears, so I slunk my way fully atop him, pressing our chests together so I could watch his face.

"Not so tough now," I remarked, working my hips to plunge deeper, bringing another groan from him as a wave of unknown ecstasy blazed through my nerves, motivating me.

"No fair," he blurted. "Never done this before…"

"You're getting what you deserve, boy," I hissed, moving over him, "so stop complaining and deal with it."

"Uh, Mello, God…" he blathered. He continued to grunt and bare his teeth, bucking in sequence with my momentum, using both hands to grab and pull violently at my hair. I slammed my hands into his thighs, digging my nails in, giving way to the roiling lances of pleasure continuously piercing through me with the act. I barely felt his lips suckling my ear and then my neck and shoulder. I ignored the unfamiliar strain in certain muscles of my body. I could feel him utter, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," repeatedly against my flesh.

I exerted all my strength to throttle our bodies into each other with as much dexterous force as I could muster, vowing not to show weakness, not to be lesser than him. He remained firmly hard, the heat of it searing my lower belly, and by the time I finally came he was nearly wrenching my hair out at the roots.

"Jesus," he gasped, his chest heaving along with mine. I braced myself up by my hands, trying to maintain my composure even as my brain was still floating upwards with a thrill that rivaled any chemically-induced high. No wonder he enjoyed this so much… I pulled out, leaving him slick and bloody, just as he'd left me numerous times before. The power that raced through my veins in that moment was nigh unto omnipotent, and I was delighted by it.

"So, no one fucks you but me," I reiterated, bringing his head up to get a response. His lips and chin were streaked with spit. "No one else chokes you by the collar."

"Nope," he affirmed, "and vice versa." He grabbed me and twisted us, penetrating me without preparation or warning. I cried out, half in shock and half in agonized pleasure. He did not spare me an ounce of his remaining energy or an inch of his length as he lifted and tugged and pushed me where he needed in order to go deeper than ever. It hurt in sequence with the ecstasy, but after I'd mounted him for the first time, there would be no stopping him, and in all honesty I had no desire to. My knees were in the air, clinging achingly against his ribs, and my fists couldn't get any tighter without breaking skin so I flung them around his head, grabbing onto his hair.

His accelerated breathing was battering my chest nonstop and the faster he moved in me, the more I realized he hadn't been able to ejaculate yet. No wonder he was so eager. I couldn't muster my mind enough to say anything, so I endured his hasty thrusts until I didn't think I could possibly bear to anymore—but I couldn't finish because in his last moments he switched our positions, pulling me as he sat up with his back flung against the couch. He kept going, burying his face in my chest as he heaved me over his lap, and in another few, torrid moments I had to release again, gasping with it. I couldn't relax because he didn't stop, and wrapped both arms around me so tightly that it ached to high hell by the time he ended seconds later, spilling his semen into me with a shrill groan from his mouth.

He slumped weakly into a pile against the cushions, still holding me but barely, and his chest was leaping rapidly with his pounding breath. I tried to inhale sufficient amounts of my own air, slowly but surely feeling the sweat collect on me and run down. I could see my own semen in a long smear from his chest to his chin. I did not know where this sudden fit of bodily ardor had been born from, but I found myself relaxed in the immediate moments after… Much more relaxed than I could remember.

I somehow managed to remove myself from him and lay back against the armrest of the couch, trying to calm my turbulent body. Matt slung one arm over the back of the sofa and went limp, mopping his brow and face and licking his lips a few times. He wiped at the wetness of his neck and then swiped it across his tongue once, smiling for some reason.

After a fairly long silence, he leaned forward with a visible flinch and then groped around on the coffee table, rediscovering that he was out of cigarettes. He sighed and stood up, getting halfway to his feet before he hissed through his teeth in pain, wobbling before righting himself. "Fucking… That hurts," he complained.

I snickered in sheer, cruel satisfaction. "Now you know how it feels."

"Yeah, guess so… Glad I suggested it?"

"I would have put you in your place eventually, whether you did or not."

"Uh huh." He went into the kitchen, slightly limping while he grumbled, and shuffled around. He wiped himself off with a washcloth before he returned with a new pack and a bar of my chocolate. I took it and tore off the paper before I ripped open the foil. I cracked off a piece and chewed it slowly as he peeled off the plastic wrapper and then tapped the box against his palm a few times before he popped it open. He slid one into his lips using the end of his tongue and then picked up his lighter and held the flame to the end, inhaling slowly and deeply. He closed the lighter and blew dual streams of silver smoke from his nostrils. After that, he sighed and lounged back again, both of us still naked and filthy with each other.

"Satisfied then?" I questioned, snapping off another large hunk of my sugary confection.

He chuckled. "Yeah, you?"

"Extensively." I munched my chocolate and sat up, setting my feet on the floor.

"Well, looks like a win-win then, huh, Boss?"

"I suppose it does."

He chuckled again and shook his head, puffing his cigarette. "Never thought of trying that before, but it wasn't too bad...aside from how much it goddamn hurt."

"If you're going to spend the rest of the night complaining…"

"Nah, it was obvious it would. I'll deal. I think watching you fuck me turned me on more than the actual fucking did, though."

"Shut up. Like I said, as long as we're in this, you're on a short leash. You don't so much as breathe without knowing for whom, and for what purpose. No more questions of loyalty or drive. It's too late for that now. This is it."

"Right." His smile hadn't dissipated. "You wanna know something, Mello?"

"No, not especially."

He turned his head to aim his crooked smirk at me. "I love making you come." I scoffed loudly. "It's kinda like making you helpless, just for a couple seconds, even if you're the one on top. It really turns my crank either way."

"You disgust me." I ate my chocolate a while longer until I stood up and grabbed my pants and under-shirt. "I'm taking a shower."

"Want some company? I could wash your back."

I glared at him as I wrapped my chocolate back up and set it on the corner of the table. "I'm pretty sure I can manage."

"It was mostly a joke."

"Mostly?"

"Yeah," he said, cracking a final grin before he returned to his cancer.

I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, taking off my rosary before I stepped under the water and soaked myself. I leaned my hand against the wall and let the spray run over my head and down my back. I smoothed my hair from my face, wincing only a little when the water hit the wound on the right side of my neck. I rubbed my fingers over it to check its progress, but when I pulled away I found blood on my hand.

"Shit," I grumbled.

"What?" I looked up as Matt pushed aside the curtain, standing there naked and looking at me. I was about to open my mouth and protest but he stepped into the tub next to me. "Your cut opened up?"

"No, I'm just bleeding from my neck for no fucking reason," I began bitingly. He placed his hand on the wall behind me and then touched his fingers to the cut. "Stop it," I said. "Get the hell out."

"You're not bleeding too much," he mentioned. "Still…" He leaned against me and found the open wound with his mouth.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Stopping the bleeding," he responded, as if it were the obvious answer. He pinned me to the tiles with both hands, resuming what he was doing as he licked and lightly sucked, agitating the broken skin and causing pain to flare up, along with pleasant sensations as well. I was unsure, but I realized that making him bleed had always held a distinct satisfaction for me, even as children, even if it was an accident.

Maybe this wasn't so strange, not between us.

After a minute or so, he lifted his head and I could see the bright redness of my blood smeared on his lips. He ran his tongue over them. "There, it stopped. It wasn't too heavy." I glared up at him but he didn't seem bothered by it and just stayed in place, wearing a slight smile.

"…Are you waiting for a medal, or what?" I demanded.

He shrugged. "Nope." He turned away and began to shower himself, paying no heed to my earlier words. He didn't even seem to be uncomfortable after everything we'd just done, which sparked my resentment, but I shook my head and went along with it, too tired to argue. "Crap, am I bleeding?" he muttered as he scrubbed himself.

"Quit bitching and be thankful I didn't tear you in half just for the hell of it," I barked, shoving him aside to get at the water.

"I knew you'd love topping," he mentioned, starting to wash his hair.

"It's the logical situation, given the options between us."

"How the fuck do you figure that?" he demanded.

"Because you're the tool and I'm the operator. It should be obvious."

"I'm also the only one here with any kinda life experience in the matter. I'm used to it so it's just natural for me."

"I know that," I growled, losing my appetite for self-searching. "All of this is unnatural… Either way, it's just a temporary deviation. There's no use arguing the finer points of something like this. Just let it alone."

"…Yeah, I guess you're right…" he mumbled. "Okay." I did my utmost to overlook the languishing of his voice.


	23. Chapter 22

**+Part 22+**

**December 24, 2009**

**11:28 p.m.**

I listened to the new recording Matt made of the conversation between Takada and Light, which mostly consisted of Christmas plans and other "Kira must be arrested" fraudulence. Again, there was nothing of much use. Following Mikami around all day had also yielded zero results, other than the fact that I spied Gevanni doing the very same thing, only at a much closer distance. Of course, he was a lot easier to overlook than I was, so I had to exercise additional caution, because if I was correct, then Mikami had the Shinigami Eyes. At least now I knew that Near and I had come up with the same suspect, which pretty much meant he was the target, with little room for doubt. There was really no reason for me to continue pursuing Mikami… I could just let Near handle him while I handled my own affairs.

I checked the time after I shut the laptop and then stood, picking up my leather jacket and sliding it on over my zippered shirt. I pocketed my things and grabbed my bike keys and helmet, and Matt looked up curiously from his game.

"Where are you going now?" he asked.

"I have just enough time to make it to midnight mass," I informed him. "There's a Christian chapel not too far from here, and they do a Catholic service on Christmas Eve."

He tapped around a little more before he shut off his game and stood up, coming towards me. "I'll go with you."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "YOU want to come to mass?"

He shrugged. "Might as well. Nothing else to do."

"If you want to I don't care, but you have to be quiet."

"I know. Might be kinda interesting to watch you pray, because I've never seen you actually do it."

"I usually don't." I checked the time again. "You can come but we're still taking the bike. I don't want to draw any attention because Near might get the idea he could find me there…"

"You really think it's a good idea to go then?"

"Perhaps not, but this case is getting more dangerous every day. We're walking on thinner and thinner ice… I should at least go to Christmas mass while I have the chance."

"Okay… Can I drive?"

"No."

"…Please?"

I stared at him. "Why?"

"Because you always get to drive the bike and I never do," he offered.

"Not good enough."

"…Because I bought you all that chocolate for your Birthday?"

I sighed irritably through my nose and glared at him. "If we can leave now, then fine, you can drive." He grinned big and I shook my head. "You don't even know where it is."

He picked up the map I'd been working on from where it sat on the counter. "Point it out to me." I did so and he nodded. "Okay, I'll remember now." I growled and threw the keys hard at him, smacking him in the chin with them. "Ow!" He caught them as they fell and rubbed the spot. "Shit, Mello… Is it such a big deal to let me drive?"

"Maybe it is."

"Whatever…" He fastened his vest up to his chin as I walked out the door and made my way downstairs first. He followed at a staggered pace, walking into the lot five minutes later with his helmet under his arm. We went to the motorbike and he swung his leg over, sitting down and inserting the key. He turned the ignition and tucked back the kickstand as he put it in gear. I swung my leg over to sit behind him, putting my helmet on. He slipped his onto his head and fastened it under his chin, adjusting his goggles. "Ready?"

"Yes, go." He revved the engine before he lifted his foot from the ground and gunned it, soaring out of the lot and onto the street so fast I had to fling my arms around his waist. "MORON!" I called.

I could barely hear him laugh over the noise of the vehicle. He sped down the busy streets of Tokyo, and I kept one arm around his waist and gripped the back of the seat with my other. We made it there in about 20 minutes, and by then it was five to midnight. He parked around back and cut the engine, whipping out the kickstand and then setting his feet on the ground. I got off and removed my helmet, setting it on the back and flipping the white hood of my undershirt up. Matt left his helmet hanging from the handlebar and then dug in his pocket, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

"Matt, we only have five minutes," I griped.

"Plenty of time," he replied, and leaned against the bike to smoke. I folded my arms over my chest and leaned beside him, tapping the pointy toe of my boot. His arm glided over my shoulder. "You're too uptight."

"Get your hand off me or I'll break it off."

He removed his appendage and exhaled smoke, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Dunno why I can't touch you in public…" he complained.

"Who said you could touch me at all?"

"Uh, YOU did, every time you grabbed my hair and moaned my name."

I glared at him with a hissing scoff. "You bastard. That's completely separate from this argument."

"What argument? And HOW is it separate?"

"Doing THAT sort of thing is different than casually touching me as if I were some kind of female to you."

"Okay, wait—so having sex is okay but touching you any other time isn't? What the hell kinda sense does that make?"

"I could do without the sex also but you won't let that go."

"Like I said before, you COULD stop me but you don't. Last time you even started it, and you sure as hell like to finish it. Not to mention you seemed pretty eager to top—"

"I need to remind you who's in charge and that seems to be the only way to get a point through your thick skull!"

"C'mon, as if you don't like it when we do it…"

"I'm done with this." I checked the time. It had been three minutes already.

"I still don't see why I can't touch you at all in public…"

"That should be obvious."

"Because strangers keep thinking you're my girlfriend?" he remarked with a chuckle.

I growled through my teeth. "There is THAT," I snapped, "but aside from that, it draws unnecessary and unwanted attention."

"Not really. Nobody pays attention to PDA anymore."

"They do when it's between two men."

"But nobody thinks you're a man at first glance, so it's okay—"

I punched him underhanded in the stomach, causing him to spit out his cigarette. "Ow!" I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets and stomped on his cigarette as I walked away. He followed after a while, holding his gut and frowning pitifully. I walked up the steps to the chapel. It was fairly crowded so I found a secluded, poorly lit corner in the very back to sit, having to shuffle past an older man to get there. Matt shuffled past right behind me and sat down as I crossed myself and knelt on the floor, clasping my hands together to say a prayer.

He settled himself, getting comfortable by propping his boots up on the foldout cushion next to where I was kneeling. I said a Hail Mary before I crossed myself again and sat back beside him, waiting for the service to start. After a minute of echoing coughs and mumbles, Matt slid his PSP out of his vest pocket and started playing with it on mute. I snatched it out of his hands and slapped him hard in the shoulder. He flinched and then slouched, jamming his hands back in his pockets. I set his game on the other side of me, shaking my head in disdain.

"You're unbelievable," I whispered.

"I'm bored."

"We just got here!"

"And I'm already bored."

"Jesus." I rubbed my fingertips over my eyes. "Then why did you even want to come?"

"Like I said, to watch you pray."

"Maybe YOU should try it." I kept my head low and set my hands in my lap, listening as the music started. Everybody stood up and sang the opening hymn, "Angels We Have Heard on High," as the Priest entered with his servers, walking up to the altar and bowing before it.

"Yeah right," Matt remarked, close to my ear. The Priest began the service and everyone sat back down.

"It's not like it would kill you," I whispered back to him. "Now be quiet."

He shrugged and stretched out his legs as the service dragged on and on. I shut my eyes to drown out all else by the Father's words. They read through the Scriptures describing Mary's pregnancy, her journey to Bethlehem, and Jesus' birth. Same as always. The sermon spoke of the value of giving during the Christmas season, as Jesus was God's gift to mankind, and so on. I had it all memorized by this point in my life, but I listened intently, letting myself—and what was left of my soul—be vainly and hypocritically comforted by the hallowed words.

Matt sighed repeatedly and began to fidget as it went on. Since I'd gone to Confession last time I went to church, I actually got up to receive Communion. It was risky, but it was probably my last chance. I accepted the Eucharist from the Priest after he blessed them and placed it on my tongue before I crossed myself. I avoided eye contact with everyone, sipping the sacred wine before I made my way back to the pew where Matt was waiting. I knelt back on the floor and said the Prayer to Saint Michael the Archangel in my head:

"_St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle; be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all the other evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen_."

I crossed myself again and sat back on the pew next to him. "What do you usually pray about?" Matt asked near my ear again. I glanced over at him. I was certain I'd told him to be quiet, but he seemed genuinely interested.

"Just traditional prayers," I answered. "To know I remember them."

"Really?"

"Yes." The Priest told us all to go in peace and love God, and then everybody stood back up for the ending hymn. The worshippers poured out of the building after the Priest departed, but I waited and Matt waited with me. When it was empty in the chapel except for the lingering choir members and employees, I pushed my hood back and lifted my rosary over my head, starting the prayers on it. I rolled each bead between my fingertips as I went along, and I'd only made it through three by the time Matt leaned over and asked what I was doing. "I always pray the rosary after mass," I answered absently.

"Oh. How do you do it?"

"…Each charm has a prayer that goes with it. You start on the Crucifix and say the Sign of the Cross and then the Apostle's Creed, and then you move to the first large bead and say the Lord's Prayer. With the next three beads you say a Hail Mary for each, then with the next large bead you announce the First Mystery and the Lord's Prayer again."

"…What the heck is the First Mystery?"

"Well, since it's Friday now, I have to recite the Five Sorrowful Mysteries."

"…The what?"

"The First Mystery is the Agony of Jesus in the Garden. There's a prayer for that and each Mystery after it. The Second is The Scourge of Jesus at the Pillar, then Jesus is Crowned with Thorns, then Jesus Carries His Cross, and last is the Crucifixion. Each set of Mysteries is a set of Biblical events that were especially inspirational."

"So you say all the little prayers in-between those, and then recite the Mysteries when you get to them?"

"Yes, and then when you're finished you say the Hail, Holy Queen."

He scratched his head. "…How do you remember all that stuff?"

"It was drilled into me my entire childhood," I explained. "It's really all I can remember from before Wammy's, before everything in my memory."

"You've always been serious about this Catholic thing, but I never really knew it was this important to you…"

"You hardly ever pay attention to anything, except those Godforsaken games."

"Yeah, yeah…" He watched me as I returned to my rosary. I made it through two more Mysteries before he interrupted again. "You've had that since I met you," he mentioned. "Where'd you get it?"

I sighed, somehow able to stay extremely patient with him at the moment. I suppose the scent of the chapel and the familiar feeling of the atmosphere forced calmness upon me. "I got it for my First Communion, from the Sister who took me in."

"Sister? You mean a nun?"

"Yes. I ran away from home when I was about five or six and ended up at a nearby Convent. They sheltered me there for around two years until some arsonists burned it down and most everyone was killed."

"…What about the nun who took you in?"

"Dead."

He didn't speak for a minute or two. "…And after that, you went to Wammy's House?"

"Yes. I was passed through a couple temporary child shelters before one of Watari's scouts picked me up."

"Huh." He went quiet again and I continued to pray, finishing up my rosary and then replacing it around my neck. "So…all this Catholic stuff…is sort of like your safe place," he said when I leaned back in the pew.

"I suppose you could say that."

"…I remember my brother smoked," he mentioned. I looked over at him. "I was really little, and my Dad beat both of us after my Mom died, I guess blaming us or something. Who knows? When it was over for the day, my brother would always climb up on the roof and sneak one of Dad's cigarettes. I remember going up there in the middle of the night and just sitting next to him… If I'm not smelling and tasting the smoke, I don't really feel right."

"…You have a brother?"

"…As far as I know," he said with a shrug. "He took off when I was like six; left me behind. Haven't seen him since. I took off not long after him, anyway."

I blinked at him and then down at my feet. "…I had several brothers and sisters, I think," I said to him. "They were all ages, and I can't really remember their faces. They could have been cousins even, and I don't even know if the adults in the house were my parents, or my aunt and uncle, or what. I can only really remember angry or weeping voices."

"…I got passed around to a few foster homes, but I kept ditching them or getting thrown back. One of Watari's scouts eventually came and took me to the House. After all that, I just went from one orphanage to another, bigger orphanage."

"They didn't send you back to your father?"

"He killed himself, so they couldn't. Wasn't his problem anymore."

I wasn't entirely certain how or why we'd ended up talking about this, or why I was being so open about it. I suppose he was taking advantage of my calm state, and I suppose I was succumbing to it. He chuckled faintly after a while and I looked over at him again. "What's funny?"

"How fucked up we are," he remarked.

"Yeah, I suppose we are." I stood up, replacing my hood over my hair. "Ready to go?"

"Sure." I handed him his PSP and he pocketed it as he got up and we left the pew. I knelt and crossed myself again before we departed the chapel and walked back outside, returning to the motorcycle. He lit up another cigarette and leaned against the vehicle to smoke before we left. I didn't complain this time, and instead took the bar of chocolate from my jacket and unwrapped it, snapping off a piece. "So, it IS Christmas," he started to say. "Wanna do something?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno… The Japanese usually celebrate with a Christmas cake," he mentioned. "We can pick one up, get one with chocolate icing."

"That sounds fine."

He snuffed his cigarette under his boot and we replaced our helmets, taking off out of the parking lot. We checked around at a few 24-hour shops until we found some, which were already marked down since it was technically the 25th now. Seeing the tiny round cakes topped with dollops of icing and whole strawberries reminded me very much of L, and I carried the box on the trip back. We ate it together while watching late-night anime on TV. It was layered with sliced strawberries in the icing, and had chocolate shavings on top as well.

He ate two whole slices before he set his dishes down and lit a new cigarette. "Well, Merry Christmas," he said.

"Merry Christmas," I replied, checking the time. "I should probably try and catch up on sleep while I have the chance."

"Good idea, Mello." He turned the volume down as I stood, shutting the cake box and walking over to put it in the fridge. When I turned back around he was in the kitchen.

"What?" He strolled up to me, stopping barely an inch away, leaning his face close. "What are you doing? Back off."

"We're not in public anymore," he said.

I grimaced at him with narrow eyes. "Matt."

He wrapped his arms around me, just standing in place with us pressed slightly together. I stared up at him and he just kissed me, nothing more, and then let me go. "There. Done. That wasn't so horrible, was it?" He walked off and sat back on the sofa, propping his boots up. "Night."

I sighed deeply and went into the bedroom to catch some welcomed rest, not bothering to wonder why I was being so complacent with Matt lately, especially considering his numerous obstinacies and boundary-breaking insistence. But the more he behaved that way, the more my barriers softened against my will, in spite of myself. I didn't like it, but I couldn't seem to end it.

**December 25, 2009**

**10:16 a.m.**

The next day, Christmas Day, I followed Mikami to his work and watched him from afar all day. He didn't leave the building until around noon, when he went alone onto the roof of the office for what looked like a meal break. I zoomed in with my specs, seeing that he was sipping a coffee on a bench all by himself. After a few minutes, he checked around himself, making sure there were no other employees nearby. His eyes shifted warily, and I wondered what he was doing before he began to speak. I took out a digital camcorder and zoomed in on his face as closely as I could, recording as he talked. There was no possible way for me to record his voice from my distance, at the hotel across the street. I recorded him until he shook his head and stood, throwing away his trash before he went back inside.

Damn. He hadn't said very much, and he'd spoken quite slowly… Matt had said he could read lips… Perhaps he could tell me what he said. As far as I knew, Kira had his former proxy, Misa Amane, relinquish her powers along with her Death Note and pass them onto Mikami. From what I'd learned, the owner of the Death Note had to be possessed by a Shinigami, so logically, Mikami could be speaking to his Shinigami on this footage. If that was the case, it could be something very useful.

I opened up my laptop and uploaded the footage onto it before I called Matt. It took him three rings to answer. "Hey," he mumbled, and I heard rapid button mashing in the background.

"Matt, I'm about to send you some footage of Mikami talking to himself." I loaded it into the email. "What address should I send it to?"

"Uh, well, just type in deus/ex/machina/M/3 .com and hit send."

"Without a destination?"

"Yeah. I got an untraceable email. Messages addressed to that name are programmed to show up in my inbox no matter who types it in, anywhere in the world. I just sift through them later, and I can't be tracked down that way."

"Hmm." I typed it in and then sent the email. "Okay, I sent it."

He was silent for a few seconds. "Got it. You said he was talking to himself?"

"Yes. Remember, it's very likely Mikami is acting as Kira right now, which means he should be possessed by a Shinigami."

"Oh yeah… So him talking to himself might be him talking to an invisible Death God?"

"That's right. I want you to watch this footage and try to see if you can read Mikami's lips."

I heard the din of his game abruptly stop, so he must've paused it. "Shit, Mello, I told you it's hard for me to read lips when they're not speaking English…"

"Yes, I know, but he only says a few sentences, and from what I could tell he was speaking slowly. I want you to seriously try."

"Okay, I'll try, but…" I heard him click around on a computer and then I resumed my looking out of the window during the silence as he watched the footage. "It's a little too fast… Let me play it again slower… I'll zoom in on his mouth too." He clicked around again. "…He said Shinigami," Matt told me after a couple seconds.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Let me replay it again." I waited. "…'Shinigami'…" Matt said. "It looks like he was in the middle of a phrase, but Shinigami is all I caught on this footage."

"Yes, he was talking a little before I managed to record him."

"Well, it looked like he said something and then Shinigami."

I tapped my fingers on the table. "He says more a little later… Do you think you can tell me what he said there too?"

"I'll try." I awaited his response. "Okay, it looks like…'That…Shinigami… Ever since he…uh…" He paused a moment, I guess watching it again. "Gave? Handed? Handed me the…note…book. Notebook…! He hasn't…uh… He hasn't…arrived?"

"Arrived?"

"No, that can't be right… This word…" He paused again. "Maybe it's 'appear.' 'He hasn't appeared'."

"That Shinigami… Ever since he handed me the notebook he hasn't appeared," I repeated.

"Yeah, that's what it looked like."

"How sure are you that that's what he said, Matt?"

"Uh…"

I rubbed my brow. "Make it easy on yourself and do it in percents, like L."

"Okay then…80 or 85%... Japanese is weird sometimes—a lot of the words have similar sounds, and they don't move their mouths the same way English speakers do."

"Alright. So that means, optimistically, there is about an 82% chance that no Shinigami is possessing Mikami right now… Or at least, that's what we can assume."

"But I thought the owner of a notebook HAD to have a Shinigami?"

"They do, as far as I understood…" I considered. "Of course, I never got a chance to test every aspect of the notebook… I tested it several ways, including all the rules that were written inside that applied to deaths, the timing, and the extent of how someone can be controlled… I concentrated more on how to kill with it, on how it affects people, but I never really had time to question the Shinigami on how THEY operate… Perhaps it's possible for them to possess more than one human at a time…"

"But you said there was one Shinigami per notebook only."

"I know that… I didn't consider before, but the taskforce has a Shinigami at their headquarters because they still have the original Kira's notebook. If there is only ONE Shinigami in the world right now, then it would look really suspicious if their Shinigami suddenly ditched the taskforce to possess someone ELSE. Anyone on the taskforce would be able to see him since they touched the notebook, and immediately know who he was possessing. Kira must've thought ahead…to ensure that the Shinigami stayed at the taskforce."

"How can there only be one Shinigami though? It doesn't add up."

"No, it doesn't…but it's what I have to assume at the moment. Perhaps one of the Shinigami returned to wherever it came from, for some reason or other… I know there were instances where that could happen."

"I guess so." He paused a minute. "At least you don't have to worry about the Shinigami spotting you anymore then."

"That's true…although Mikami certainly has The Eyes." I closed my laptop and took out the specs again. There was no movement, and I didn't really expect there to be until he got off work. "I have no moves to make right now… Just more waiting and watching."

"Same old, same old… Boring…"

"Yes, but there's no other choice."

"Yeah, I know."

"I'll call you later. Don't forget to check if Light and Takada are meeting tonight."

"Got it."

**December 25, 2009**

**6:32 p.m.**

I followed Mikami home, parking a little closer this time in a black, rented sedan so I could observe the door to his room from outside and not cause suspicion of any kind. Matt had found out what number his apartment was, and through the specs I could see two security cameras. Interesting. I had utilized Sidoh as the perfect guard, since he was invisible to anyone who hadn't touched the notebook. There's no reason Mikami couldn't do the same thing, so why would he need cameras? That only gave me further evidence that he didn't have a Shinigami at his side.

I sat there and watched until he turned his light off for the night and then I returned to the apartment. Matt had a new recording of Light and Takada, but again there was nothing of interest spoken about. They discussed things she should say on NHN to provoke Kira, and other romantic drivel, and so on. The only lead I had at the moment was Mikami's lack of Shinigami. I wish I could just speak to that Shinigami one more time…but he didn't seem all that useful in the first place… Perhaps, just maybe, I could get my hands on Mikami's notebook…and see for myself if he had a Death God possessing him?

No. That would be like asking for a death sentence. If he DID have a Shinigami…he would almost surely tell Mikami if he saw me touch the notebook. Then again, not all Shinigami were as brainless as Sidoh had been… Maybe this Shinigami was independent, and had no interest in cooperating with Mikami? But there was absolutely no way to tell that. Dammit. It would be too much of a gamble, not to mention if I ran into Gevanni…he would surely try to take me into custody… What were my options? What should my next move be?

"What you thinking about, Mello?" Matt asked from his spot on the couch. He had a Nintendo64 controller in his hands, but I saw he'd paused his game.

"The Shinigami…" I answered. "Mikami… The notebook… Kira… I seem to be out of options completely… It's pissing me off."

"I bet." He turned the volume down and commenced playing, somehow able to play while he thought aloud. "So what we got? We got Takada, who knows Light is Kira and meets with him regularly to receive orders for Mikami. We got Mikami, who is the current owner of the only free notebook and also possesses Shinigami Eyes, but probably not a Shinigami. We got Light, who is Kira but is also posing as L within the taskforce, which suspects him but can't prove anything. And we got Near, who knows all this same shit but can operate much more out in the open than we can, because he has professional flunkies. So, what can we work with out of that?"

"Do you have an idea or are you just trying to make me angrier?" I growled.

"Well, I think…out of those options…Takada is the safest to approach. Your original idea about kidnapping and interrogating her seems good to me."

"Yes, but I can't move in on her yet… I need to wait for a time when both Near and Kira are distracted…"

"We could wait until they move in on each other, and then snatch Takada right out from under their noses."

"Yes, that is the ideal plan…but first I must find out WHEN. Mikami and his Shinigami…let's just label them as irrelevant at this point. I can't move in on him without virtually committing suicide. Same with Kira. I can still get information on Near using Halle, and then confirm her information later with my own observations… Perhaps I'll just have to wait until she gives me something big I can use… The day when Near and Kira move in on each other… That's it. That's the day I'll wait for. That's the day I'll strike."

"Let's just plan for that then… If there's no other moves to make, we'll just have to focus on the ones we CAN make."

"I know, but my patience is running thin… I've uncovered so much—and yet I can't move forward. This must be how L felt just before he died…"

We both fell silent then. Perhaps I'd said too much, but it wasn't anything new to either of us. I'd told Matt in the beginning…nearly two years ago now…

_April xx, 2007_

_xx:xx_

_It had been two years since I left Wammy's House. I'd relocated to America, the one country where I knew I would have the most freedom of movement and the greatest possibility of disappearing. I spent every waking moment of those 24 months training—mind and body. I'd put myself through several mental tests, including memory and reasoning, brushed up on all my language learning, and all the while I threw myself into any and all skills training I could possibly find: martial arts, physical stamina, driving most vehicles, lock picking, computer operations, weapons tech, sharpshooting, knife and street fighting; anything. I focused doubly hard on the things I hadn't had the opportunity to learn in the docile environment of Wammy's. Anything and everything that would give me an advantage over Near in the race. Anything to eradicate the past as if I could burn it down as easily as I burned every last photograph of myself in existence—save one._

_Which would include acquiring one more thing: so when that period had passed, I continued my training while simultaneously beginning my search for Matt's whereabouts. I knew he had most likely relocated to America as well, for the same reasons I had, and once word got out on the news and on the net about the largest string of digital robberies this decade, I had known with almost certainty it was him. I'd threatened and tortured a good many people to get any information I could on him, and with only a few meager scraps of evidence, I was sure._

_Matt had always been quiet yet I knew he was unshakably cocky. The robber had left a calling card behind at every crime. Once at least 10,000 dollars in digital funds had been drained from the business or bank database, all the previous information was replaced with a looping memory of a single video of pornography. Matt had done the same thing back at Wammy's House, whenever he crashed the host computers so we could make trouble. _

_Then the matter of finding him had arisen. He began in New York, but had only stayed there briefly before hopping from random state to random state, staying a maximum of three or four months. He had hit Pittsburgh, then Atlanta, then Miami, then Minneapolis, and then there had been a relatively long period of silence. In order to beat him to his next target, I did a quick run through of major cities, finding that Chicago boasted one of the most secure banks in the United States. I knew he liked a challenge in this context, and it was nearby, so I made my way to Chicago. I then began the relatively simple process of tracking him down. _

_It started by finding the largest, best-known, most heavily secured bank in the city, and then hiring my own hackers to break in and keep an eye on any suspicious changes or sudden differences. With my prior knowledge of him, I'd known he would be relatively close to the location he ripped off, just for the cheap thrill of it. I determined he would be within a two-mile radius, and had my hackers keep tabs on any new, large, unnamed networks floating around. Ordinarily this wouldn't be suspicious, but I knew what to look for. When they discovered a couple, I'd paid them off and then all I had to do was read through the encrypted usernames._

_The one most heavily encrypted was: MachineCode_W/H+L/3+M/2=$, which to me read: Machine Code is Wammy's House, plus L's 3rd Heir, plus 2nd M (which meant Matt) equals cash. An obvious enough sentiment to me. I knew Near could possibly figure it out, if he had the time, but there's no way he would get as far as I did as fast as I did, or know what to look for in the first place. _

_This was most definitely Matt, and his network was based in an area roughly the size of a city block, leeching input from global sources but concentrated there so as to be relatively under the radar. I then just spent a few days wandering the area until sure enough, I spotted him on a street corner, a shopping bag full of cigarettes and junk food dangling from his hand. I'd kept my distance and followed him home, seeing which apartment he went into. In the dead of night I'd gone in, breaking into the landlord's office and finding which tenant's electricity bill was the highest. _

_The highest was from Room 203. I walked up the stairs and picked the lock easily enough, even as the door vibrated from the din inside the room. I crept in, finding the apartment utterly dark except for the flashing and flickering of the television. He had his back to the door, his body hunched over on the leather sofa, both elbows braced on his knees with a game controller in his hands._

_I had pictured this exactly, and it was almost too perfect to be believable. The buffoon. It was a damn good thing I was the only living person who knew him so well. I just strolled right up to the couch and leaned over the back of it, tapping him on the head. He just about dove out of his skin as he leapt to his feet, spinning towards me. _

_We both had guns pointed at each other's heads before the controller hit the ground. _

"…_Mello…?" he'd said, his voice audibly shocked, but barely._

"_Matt," I'd replied, "L is dead."_


	24. Chapter 23

_+Part 23+_

_April xx, 2007_

_xx:xx_

_ Matt had his small black revolver still aimed for my head, and in turn my pistol was steady on his. He still wore goggles over his eyes, concealing the full brunt of his expression from me. The last time I'd seen him, he was barely 13, and he'd just left Wammy's House without an explanation or even a single word of farewell. I hadn't allowed it to bother me when it tried to, and instead refocused my entire concentration on besting Near, which thus far had not been successful, much to my outrage._

_Now, after over four years, we were face to face again, and I couldn't pretend things hadn't changed. Neither of us had been 17 more than a few months, and I was well aware that I had changed myself a great deal since the last time we met. I had put great effort into it._

_ "What are you talking about?" he'd asked, caution still tainting his voice. "He's still working on that Kira case or whatever in Japan."_

_ "No, Matt. Roger received L's death message just about two years ago. He's dead, Kira killed him, and the Japanese lied to the world and took his place."_

_ "Well, fuck," he'd remarked, and finally lowered his gun. I lowered mine a few moments after. "It's been what, four years since I left? And now you show up out of nowhere just to drop this news on me..." He set down the revolver and picked up what looked like a pack of cigarettes, and then a tiny flame flicked to life in the mostly-dark and he inhaled before a cloud of silver drifted past the reflective lenses of his goggles. So he still smoked those damned things, as if there was ever any doubt. "Shit, I never thought L would…" He muted the TV and then wandered over to flip on the light. He turned back, exhaling another cloud of pungent smoke. He shook his head._

_He had also changed a great deal in that relatively short amount of time. He had grown several inches to where he was finally taller than me. His complexion was still desperately pale, but clearer now. His hair had been left to grow out quite a bit, and sat in jagged, messy layers over his forehead and ears. It was the same striking red it had always been, perhaps even darker, but looked like it hadn't been trimmed in a while. He'd at last grown into his long limbs, so his lean body had reached all the proper proportions of a grown man, including slightly broad shoulders, a wider chest, and defined muscle in his arms. His chin and upper lip were even speckled with reddish facial hair. It looked like he'd neglected to shave or even comb his mop for several days. He was wearing his preference of a long-sleeved striped shirt with jeans, but he had heavy leather biker boots on his feet that buckled at the ankle and shin. I could also see a pair of leather biker gloves lying on the kitchen counter next to a helmet and a pile of keys. _

_And, of course, he hadn't dared part with those confounded goggles—the exact same ones he'd worn as a child. At least they fit him now, only hiding his face from cheekbones to brows, unlike when we were children and he looked ridiculous wearing the oversized things._

_I was somewhat surprised by how…pleasant he was to look at. After all, the last time we laid eyes on each other we were barely hitting puberty and he obviously hadn't had his growth spurt yet. He'd been short, pasty, and riddled with brownish-red freckles, some even large enough to be blotches. His hair was always in a messy bowl-cut thanks to the Institution's preferences, and he never took off those massive lenses, which only made him look even more like the scrawny, quiet little nerd he was. When we'd parted he was a boy, but now without my scrutiny he had become a man. Like me. _

_We'd come together again after growing up, against the odds, and in spite of my determination to pave my own way. We were apart for even longer than I let myself realize, so long that I wasn't sure I could rein him in any longer. Was he still the same—still the silently nodding, complacent dog who always trotted along behind me? Was he still useable? Would this be more trouble than I could deal with?_

_But as I stood there before him, I knew that to have any chance of reaching my goals, I would need him—need him like I'd never needed anyone before._

_The silence that stretched between us was unnerving, and semi-anxious, but he shattered it as he usually did, with a dry, brief chuckle. "What the hell is up with the pants, Mello?" he cracked. "How do you even walk in those?"_

_Instantly, my inexplicable nervousness had died a violent death. I sighed irritably through my clenched teeth and stowed my gun in the front of said leather pants. He could never change. It was stupid of me to worry. _

"_Matt, I came here for a reason."_

"_I figured." He plucked the cigarette from his lips, billowing smoke from his nostrils like a dragon. "So you want my help catching L's killer, right?"_

_I pressed my lips together as my forehead furrowed at his readiness. "Yes," I answered after a moment._

_He chuckled again. "So, are you asking me, or telling me?"_

_I considered, and bit back hard on my dominating urges. Above all my other mental training, I had practiced patience—for patience I would need, both in finding Kira and in living with Matt. "I'm asking."_

"_Really? That's a shocker." He smoked for a few seconds. "I always thought if we saw each other again, you'd pick up right where you left off—ordering me around." He flicked his ash away. "So what's the deal?"_

"…_I'm planning to join the American Mafia as soon as possible, and use their national crime connections to get my hands on Kira's murder weapon. Then I'll force him into submission using it myself."_

"_The Mafia, huh? So I gotta join too?"_

"_No, I'll need your particular skills for other things, and it will be to my utmost benefit to have a second pair of hands on my side, completely out of sight. It will be an extra advantage against Near."_

"_Near's after Kira too, huh?"_

"_Yes, and I can't let him win."_

"_Right." He scratched his head. "So this Kira guy actually killed L?"_

"_Yes, in cold blood."_

"…_So this is gonna be dangerous?"_

"_Extremely."_

"_Hmm…" He walked over to his coffee table and tapped off the long ash from the end of his cigarette into a full ashtray. "Sounds fun."_

_I shook my head. "I'm asking you if you're willing to die for this, Matt," I'd said to him. "I'm out to kill Kira and defeat Near once and for all, but I can't tell what will happen along the way. There's a very good chance we could die in this game. That's why I'm asking you and not ordering you. You're free to refuse, and if so, I'll just do it on my own."_

_He blew another lungful of smoke from his lips and then snuffed the cigarette. "When do we start, Boss?"_

December 25, 2009

11:43 p.m.

I wasn't sure where I had drifted off to, or why, but when my cell phone vibrated it snapped me back into present reality. I flipped it open, seeing an attempted call. Since this phone was invisible, it accepted no incoming calls from anyone other than Matt's identical phone, and thus it alerted me when any number attempted to do so. I stood up to call Halle back and Matt paused his game again.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Mello, I don't have much time," Halle said quietly. "Aizawa contacted Near earlier tonight and told him he confirmed that Light and Takada were communicating with the hotel room notepads."

"I already knew that."

"Well, Near pretty much shot Aizawa down, telling him that he and the other taskforce members are insignificant now, and that it's just a race between L's heirs and Kira."

"So, Near finally broke it to them, did he?" I smirked. "It was just a matter of time before he told them to stay out of it…"

"Aizawa seemed pretty upset, but he eventually gave in."

"Of course. His first priority is catching Kira, by whatever means necessary, even if it means bowing out to the little bastard and allowing him all the glory. But that's not what I'm going to do."

"What will you do, Mello?"

"I haven't decided yet." I glanced over, seeing Matt was watching me. I exhaled. "Is that all you have?"

"…Have you found Kira's proxy yet?"

"Why? Did Near tell you to withhold that information from me?"

"I don't think he knows I've still been leaking information to you since that incident at SPK Headquarters in New York. He assumes I don't have the time or the motive."

"But he must think the proxy is vital to his plan if you still refuse to tell me."

"I never said I knew who it was."

"I know you do. It takes a liar to know a liar, Halle. I thought you were with me."

"Mello…" She sighed. "I really don't know much about it. Near…hasn't been updating me like he has Gevanni and Rester. I'm out of the loop for the moment. Maybe… Maybe you're right and he doesn't want you to know, and that's why he hasn't told me. Maybe he does still think I'm leaking info… Maybe I'm just a liability to him at this point."

"Hmm." Was she telling the truth? No matter, really.

"I really called to ask if you're alright. You seem cold lately…tired. You must be exhausted after all this, but you're still pushing yourself so hard…"

"I have my head in the game. This is the final stretch, and I can't afford any mistakes, and neither can you. For the last time, don't try calling me unless you have something useful to report." I was about to hang up.

"W-Wait!" she called into the line. I paused. "Mello…" She inhaled. "Near has been able to find out that Kira's proxy does not have a Shinigami with him. It isn't 100%, but he's about to hatch a plan to make certain."

I touched my chin. "Good. Let me know when he does."

"Okay, Mello… I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but I do have an obligation to my team, even if it's only on the surface."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. What I need from you is to focus, Halle, do you understand?"

"Yes, you're right. I understand."

"Good." I hung up and touched my chin again.

"What's up with the skanky bitch?" Matt questioned, half-growling with his lips sneered.

"She says Near is almost convinced Mikami doesn't possess a Shinigami, but he's now taking steps to make 100% certain."

"And you believe her?"

"Matt, this time I saw it with my own eyes. Gevanni is also following Mikami, and he's most likely uncovered the exact same clues I have. I told you I wasn't going to make any more careless mistakes, especially regarding Near's team."

He started playing again. "Okay."

I sat back in my chair. "Do you still have your panties in a twist over that woman?"

"First of all, if anyone wears the panties around here, it's you—"

"You fucking—"

"—And second of all, yes it still pisses me off to think of you running off in the middle of the night to get busy with that whore behind my back."

I slapped my hand over my eyes and growled, opening a fresh bar of chocolate. I cracked off a piece to keep my calm, not needing to work myself up any more than I already was. "There are so many things wrong with that sentence I don't even know where to begin."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you didn't plan it, but…I really wish you had just slapped her or kicked her or something…just to be mean…"

"I told you it was my own fault, Matt. I let myself get distracted, but it won't happen again. If I needlessly punished her for my own mistake, that would be simply pathetic."

"I know. I still can't believe you even went with it… You said you didn't fuck her, but how far DID you go…?"

"As if I'd tell you that." I cracked off another piece of chocolate.

He paused his game and turned to me again. "You mean you DID get further than first base?"

"Maybe," I remarked, discovering extreme pleasure in stringing him along. Tormenting him could always prove to be a most welcome deviation, and it was getting easier and easier lately.

"Shit, man, are you serious? What, I wasn't good enough?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded.

"I thought I was doing a pretty good job of getting you off, so why did you let her get to second base?"

"For the love of God, Matt, I never planned on getting physical with anybody in the first place! All it's done is make things unnecessarily complex." I licked the edge of my chocolate and glanced away. "I can't be certain why I let her, anyway. Maybe you were right about something else."

"What?"

"About women—about them being different. It did feel different, and I was occupied with that for a while…but I rejected her and left and then you know the rest. It was nothing of consequence."

"…So she really is the first woman you've ever been with then, right? I mean, there's no way you'd even know the first thing about scoring chicks…"

"Why the hell wouldn't I?"

"Well, maybe not on purpose…but I gotta admit chicks really dig badass gangster types like you… But you're not exactly a suave, debonair kinda guy."

I scoffed and broke off another piece of candy. "For your information, I was propositioned several times by women in the Mafia."

He dropped his controller. "What? Seriously, Mello?"

"What of it?" I demanded.

"What kind of women? What kind of propositions?"

"Why the hell should it matter to you?"

"Just because it does, okay? It matters."

I finished chewing and swallowing before I leaned my cheek on my fist and exhaled. "There were always easy women swarming around the gang. That's an obvious enough expectation. Rod always had some bimbo dangling on his arm. The guys pretty much passed them between each other and the women spent all their time trying to look good so they would get expensive gifts and whatnot. Naturally, they tried with me too, but I wouldn't have it. It didn't take long for them to be deterred by my threats and stay the hell away."

"So you turned down hot Mafia babes every day?"

"For a while."

"Wow, Mello…"

"What? I told you, I didn't have time for women, especially then. The incident with Halle was a lapse in my judgment brought on by my becoming preoccupied with her loyalty."

"Loyalty my ass," he argued.

"Listen to me. I never told you, but when I went to see Near…I came a hair's breadth away from shooting him in the back of the head."

"Fuck, really?"

"Yes. It was Halle who stopped me. She threw herself in front of my gun, even given how unstable I was at that moment, and talked me down. If she hadn't, Gevanni and Rester would have shot me right then and there, and Near wouldn't have even bothered to turn around."

"…She really did that?"

"Yes, she did. I don't know why she's attached to me, or how genuine it is, but she did risk herself to save me. For a while I was fooled into having emotions about it, questions, perhaps slight reverence…but it died quickly. She's a worthy, impressive woman, and I lost sight of the objective for a little while, but it's passed now. Gone. I continue to lead her on from a distance so I can use her effectively, but nothing more. So you need to get over it."

He let his weight sink back into the couch, seeming to think things over a while. "So that's what it was, really," he commented. "I guess I can understand that… I mean, it's not like I haven't thought about going out and chasing some hot tail while I still have the chance…but I got you for that now."

I scoffed at his audacity. "Are we done with this conversation yet?" I bit off another hunk of chocolate and rolled it into my mouth, just letting it melt a while.

"…Well…this is probably a really stupid question…but…"

"Just spit it out."

He looked away, seeming to chew the insides of his cheeks for a second. "…You…haven't been with any other, uh, DUDES either…have you?"

I nearly choked as I swallowed my confection hard and sat up straighter in my chair. "Are you out of your mind? Why the fuck would you ask me that?"

"I dunno…" He scratched the back of his head. "I mean, I never, EVER thought about trying anything with any dude except you…but I never really thought about it the other way around… Uh, because you seem to like it, you know, doing it the way we do, so maybe I was thinking…you might've done stuff before with a guy… I mean, you said you were a virgin but there's still stuff you can do…" He scratched his chin and neck, still refusing to look at me. "I think that might piss me off even more than if you cheated with a girl. I know it sounds weird…"

"Cheated? What the hell do you think this is, a dating game?"

He shrugged. "I dunno what else you'd call it… I just wanna know if I'm really the first or not, okay?"

I growled under my breath, but I maintained my composure somehow and made a fist on the armrest of my chair, taking a deep breath. I hadn't ever wanted to think of such things again, but I had resolved to be more honest with Matt, because he was so blatantly honest with me. This far along in the mission, with the end rapidly encroaching, our backs to the wall and our necks hanging out in the open…there really was no reason to lie or put him out anymore, no matter how natural it was for me to act that way.

My whole life I had been perfectly unheeding of any other living person, so desperate to defend my pride because of past blurs of empty weakness and other mixed, turbulent emotions I could never describe. My whole life I had shirked responsibility for the pain of others, either reveling in their misery or else shrugging it off as meaningless. But now, more and more, I found that when it came to Matt-and only Matt-my entire manner of thinking had changed.

"Matt," I said at last, very gravely. "You're the first person I've ever willingly been with in that particular context."

He stiffened his posture again and peered over at me, putting his hand on the cushion to lean in my direction. "Mello…did you just say WILLINGLY…?"

"Yes."

"You mean you… You were…uh…" He shut his mouth and then opened it again, but no sounds came out.

"I can't remember," I barked, not liking the fact that I was speaking this lost, faded, drowned memory aloud. I hadn't ever planned to voice it again, and I didn't ever like to make my past weaknesses, however few, known. But I suppose I could at least tell him. He would be the only living person who knew, would ever know. "I can't really remember if it happened or not. I had to be no older than four… It was a man, the man who lived in the house—my father, uncle, guardian, whoever—and I'm pretty sure he…at least touched me. But I don't remember, honestly. It could have been a nightmare for all I'm aware of. Most of my memories could be confused with nightmares, probably. I ran away not long after that."

"Christ…I…" He pushed his goggles up onto his head and scratched his brow as it wrinkled. His frown was deep, yet uneven. "I dunno what to say… Uh, I shouldn't have brought it up…"

"No, Matt, it's fine. Like I said, for all I know, it might not have even happened. I can't remember, nor do I want to try. It means nothing to me now."

"So that's it…?"

"Yes, that's it." He didn't look up for a while, and again the impulse to placate him washed over me. "…If it makes you feel any better, I was propositioned by ONE man while a member of the Mafia."

"W-Wait, what?" he exclaimed.

"He approached me in the bathroom, so the other guys wouldn't hear. He came up behind me, grabbed me, and told me he didn't blame me for slapping around those brainless whores that flocked to me. He said it was obvious what I wanted was a man instead, and told me that he was interested."

"Holy shit, what did you do?"

"I broke his hand, forcing him to the floor by it, and then I dislocated his shoulder and smashed his teeth and his nose in on the bathroom tile. I turned him over onto his back so he choked on his own blood before anybody found him." I cracked off another piece of chocolate. "That was kill number five that I told you about."

Matt's mouth fell open a little. "You killed him just because he thought you were into men?"

"Because he touched me," I stated. "Every single man in that fucking organization knew better than to ever fucking touch me, but he did, and not just a passing gesture or an accidental contact. Those I could overlook. He went too far, and so he got what he deserved."

"God, Mello…but you…" He bit his lip a second. "So you really feel that way…?"

"Yes, I always have. Since I can remember—really remember—I haven't liked anyone to touch me, and especially not like that."

"…But almost since we met, you let me touch you, so…" He paused a moment. "No, wait, you hated getting touched by the other kids, didn't you? You had to deal with it if the adults touched you, but whenever the other kids did…you lost it. Like how you tried to burn down the playhouse with that kid inside, just because he pulled your hair… I touched you every now and then, when we were playing, and you could be a bitch sometimes, but you never attacked me for it after our very first fight… You got into fistfights all the time, always punching kids in the face or kicking them really hard or playing extra rough just to cause them pain, but I never thought it was because…of…of what happened to you…" He wiped his hand over his mouth. "But you've let me touch you…THAT way…and you've…"

I shut my eyes, lowering my bar of chocolate. "Yes, Matt, I know." I sighed. "That's probably why I get so angry with you every time. I don't like to be touched, or gawked at, or held, or controlled—but I am well aware that I could stop you if I wanted, as easily as I stopped that Mafia bastard who was probably about a foot taller than me, and much stronger. You've never been able to beat me in a fight. So now…I know very well that this is of my own will. You don't have to keep questioning me, or second-guessing yourself. It's not necessary, and I won't devote excess thought to it, so neither should you."

"So…that's it? That's really all there is to it? You let me touch you, just because you do—end of story?"

"Yes. Can we stop talking about it now?"

"…Yeah. Yeah, we can stop. Sorry…for being so nosy."

"It's fine."

"Uh, Mello…?" he said, picking his controller back up.

"What now?"

"Sorry, y'know, for…getting jealous. I didn't know that's how it was…"

"I told you, it's fine. I should never have gone there when I knew what she wanted. It was unnecessary. But I can finally use it to my advantage, so I'll keep deceiving her from a safe distance."

"But I never knew all the shit you've been through… I've been shrugging off a lot of it, haven't I? I haven't risked my life nearly as much as you have. I'm still the invisible one, the safe one. I really haven't contributed that much… Maybe I really should've joined the Mafia with you, then we could've at least watched each other's backs."

"No, Matt, there's a very good reason I told you not to join with me."

"…Because I wouldn't have been able to cut it?"

"Yes, but there's nothing wrong with that. Those criminal bastards were completely ruthless. Rod often killed his own men if they slipped up or got in the way or made a single wrong move. Of course I utilized his cruelty for my own designs, but I had to throw my weight around and commit extremely vicious acts left and right to keep them under my thumb. To get them to pay attention to me and bring me into their syndicate, I had to hunt down a rival Mob Boss singlehandedly and bring Rod his head as a present." Matt was still staring at me. I tried not to focus too much on his eyes. "That night I came back to the apartment covered in blood… You remember?"

"Uh, yeah, of course I remember that… You were soaked…and you tracked it all over the floor…"

"Yeah, that was why. After that, Rod himself hung on my every word as law, because I brought him so much success in such a short time. If you had joined with me you would have been pressured to become a killer almost instantly, among other horrible things. There was no need for you to take that step. And if you had, and you slipped up, I wouldn't have been able to protect you without losing my credibility." I ate another bite of chocolate. "You were of greater use on the outside, remaining anonymous. Your invisibility is what's most useful to me—absolutely indispensible. And like I said, if you had been there when I blew the base…then we'd both be dead now."

"Yeah…I guess you're right. I just…kinda feel like I should've helped more, or something."

"You did more than enough. The only reason I was driven to that final extreme was because the Japanese teamed up directly with Kira and made the Eye Deal, which I did not expect at all. I hadn't made adequate plans for an outcome like that, since Yagami was so straight-laced. I underestimated my opponent. But I won't be doing that ever again." I took another bite and chewed. "And you're still my ace-in-the-hole, since the taskforce has no idea you exist, and no one has seen your face. All in all, it wasn't a complete loss since you were on the outside. I destroyed all evidence, bought myself some time, and still had you in my corner. It was a setback, but not a defeat. Don't worry about it."

"Guess you're right… I probably would've made an awesome Mob Boss though…" He started playing again and I rolled my eyes, taking another bite. "So…if it's not a dating game, what would you call it?"

"No questions, remember?" I barked through my chocolate.

"Right, no questions…" He thumbs tapped away and he didn't say another word.

**December 31, 2009**

**8:00 p.m.**

There were no new developments for days, not even on NHN, but on the 31st after News 7, the annual music show was coming on. I left it on that channel, loosely paying attention to Takada come out on stage in a traditional kimono and introduce the stars of the show. After a few brief intros, she clasped the microphone in both hands and looked into the camera, speaking with a sad tone.

"Now, there is something I must apologize to all the viewers for at this point. Unfortunately, Misa-Misa, AKA Misa Amane, who was scheduled to start the show, has not yet arrived."

I broke off a piece of the chocolate bar in my hand and turned the volume up. One of her guests, some idol named Ami Hamasaki, commented with, "Lady Takada, I guess this is part of doing a live show, isn't it? And it's just like Misa-Misa to be late, anyway."

"That's right. Who knows what's going to happen next! So you have to keep your eye on this show!"

"Misa Amane hasn't shown up to her own comeback performance…" I observed aloud. Matt was tapping away at a handheld console, a rectangular device that looked like an ancient model of a Nintendo Gameboy.

"What?" he muttered.

"Why wouldn't she show at such a crucial performance? She's vain and likes to be admired, I know at least that much from observing her all those miserable days…"

"Maybe Takada bumped her off because she's jealous?"

"You mean she had Mikami kill Misa due to her personal vendetta?"

"Maybe."

I considered. "…No. Light has been instructing her too well, and both Takada and Mikami are smarter than that."

"Chicks can get pretty fucking scary, dude. They're capable of some messed up shit. I remember this one time, I was bringing a girl back to my apartment, and another girl I'd been seeing showed up at the door at the same time. They went ape-shit all over each other, clawing and screaming and pulling hair… It was really hot, but still pretty messed up."

I rubbed my temple. "Takada is at least obsessed enough to obey Light's direct orders as Kira."

"Guess so. Misa-Misa could just really be late…"

"Misa-Misa?" I questioned with a curled lip.

He shrugged. "So I looked up some of her modeling stuff… So what? I told you, she's cute."

"What did I tell you about women?"

"This was way before then," he explained.

I exhaled gruffly. "We'll see what happens." I watched through half the show, but still no Misa Amane. "There's only one explanation for this."

"Hmm?"

"Near," I sneered. "He must've taken Amane and Mogi into custody."

"That's illegal."

"He'll probably pressure them into staying voluntarily, that's the way he is. Bottom line: Near needs every loose end out of the way for his plans to advance. Amane was once the Second Kira, so Near has taken her into custody to prevent Kira from using her Eyes, just in case. It's a big precaution, so it's probably mostly a ploy to rattle Kira's nerves."

"Hmm… You think Kira has it figured out?"

"He will eventually, once he realizes he can't locate or contact Amane or Mogi… He and Near can contact each other directly, so he'll figure it out, but he'll have to abide by it. There's nothing else he can do without looking suspicious in front of the taskforce."

"Right… So, now Misa-Misa and Mogi are out of the way… You said Near got the taskforce to stay out of it… That leaves us with Kira, Mikami, and the SPK."

"The SPK has already moved in on Mikami…so I'm certain Near's plan must revolve around him…but going after Mikami myself won't do me any good. I can't approach him… In theory, I could follow him around, get accustomed to his patterns, and then try to steal his notebook…"

"If he carries it on him."

"Exactly. I can't be sure of that, and if he does have a Shinigami on his side, the entire effort would be worthless. No, I should let the SPK take care of Mikami, let Near and Kira butt heads, and then make my move on Takada when they least expect it… After all, she is crucial—she is the bridge between Kira's will and Kira's right hand. We'll stick with Takada."

"Yeah."

**January 1, 2010**

**12:17 a.m.**

Not long after midnight, I called Halle to ask her what happened with Misa Amane. "We intercepted her and Mogi on their way to the NHN building. Misa argued at first, but then we told her it was so we could capture Kira. Mogi didn't put up a fight, and we confined them in a room that has 24/7 camera and audio surveillance."

"Does L know?"

"Yes, he figured it out and called Near to ask what was going on. Near told him they were staying voluntarily, which wasn't a lie, because Mogi agreed to it."

"He probably figures helping Near is the best way to catch Kira."

"Yes, that's what Near surmises. He connected L to their room so he could make sure they were okay, and then he gave his consent. We intend to hold them indefinitely until the case is solved."

"I see." I watched Matt play some horror adventure game on his black Xbox360 where you apparently got to kill hordes of zombies. "Anything else?"

"I'm fairly certain Near is fine-tuning his ultimate plan… As soon as I have the specifics, I will let you know."

"And Mikami?"

"Near is still pretty certain he has no Shinigami, but he's not taking any chances."

"How does he plan to confirm it?"

"…Near had Gevanni break into Mikami's gym locker and touch the notebook today."

"Gevanni volunteered to touch the notebook?" I considered. "And he saw no Shinigami around Mikami?"

"No, he didn't spot one at all, even all the way back to Mikami's home. He observed him for a few hours, but saw nothing."

"So Near plans to make absolutely certain there is no Shinigami interfering… He already knows about the 23 day rule, so I'm guessing it has something to do with that."

"Yes, he's going to wait and be certain Gevanni isn't being controlled by Kira, just in case the Shinigami told Mikami his name and wrote it in the notebook."

"Yes… It all makes sense."

"When I have the final date, I'll tell you."

"Alright, Halle. I have to go now."

"Okay. Good night, Mello."

I hung up and lounged back in my chair. "It's all playing out exactly as I figured it would… Near is so predictable—too predictable. At this rate, Light will see right through him."

"You think so?" Matt asked, his thumbs still tapping away.

"Of course. Near's always had this problem, and it never hindered him in theory, in a classroom, but out here in the real world, against a real killer, it's going to cost him—and cost him big."

"What problem do you mean?"

"Near has a deluded sense of justice—focused singularly on L's most shining ideals. What he doesn't understand is that sometimes drastic action is required under dire circumstances. L knew that, and when it came down to the wire, L would do what he had to do. Near knows who Kira is, and who his proxy is, but he can't move without proof, and so he has to tread very carefully—too carefully. Light has all the time in the world to figure out his plan, and prepare counter measures for it."

"Well, I guess that gives you more of a chance to beat him then."

"Precisely," I said with a smirk. "Near is focusing all his attention on getting to Kira legally and pinning him with undeniable proof. He's going step by step, taking every precaution to ensure he does things by the book, and to the last detail, even if it means throwing his subordinates into mortal danger left and right while he sits back to put the puzzle pieces in place. They'll keep obeying him though, no doubt, and if things keep heading this way…they'll all be dead by the time it's done. Kira will be standing on a tower of bodies, and there won't be a single, solitary person alive who knows of the existence of the Death Notes."

"Except for us."

"Yes, that's why we have to move in the next month, while both Kira and Near are distracted. If they are focused on each other, we will have more room to move. Right now, I'm an afterthought to Kira—perhaps a lingering annoyance. But I'll show him by bringing down the entire case myself."

"Sounds fun. When do we start?"

"It won't be until later in the month, after Near's plan has time to follow through. At the last second, I'll strike—under both Near's and Kira's noses. They won't know what hit them."

"Epic."

Finally, everything was coming together. I knew if I exercised patience and took advantage of Near's team to pull ahead, a path would make itself clear to me. I had a plan, now all I needed was an opening so I could refine the details. After a few more minutes of loud zombie slaughtering, Matt came to the end of a level and saved the game before he got up to rummage around in the kitchen. He came back with a bag of chips and a soda, and then resumed his game.

I pondered silently a while. How exactly did Matt factor into my schemes, and to what extent? My original plan was for him to act as a decoy while I kidnapped Takada, and given his apparent driving skills, that plan seemed even better than before. I could figure out a quick, undetectable way to transport her to a secluded area, and then question her at my leisure, by whatever means necessary. Matt wouldn't have any need to help with that, and undoubtedly he wouldn't have the stomach for it anyway. He could just lie low until I was finished, and then when I had what I needed, I would kill Takada and begin my final act—moving in on Kira and then taking him down myself. I would need to start the preliminary preparations soon.

January 3, 2010

10:18 p.m.

I encountered nothing new until a few days later when Matt called me from his routine stakeout at the Teito Hotel.

"Light and Takada are meeting again," he told me when I answered.

"The end is getting closer," I observed. "Record the conversation and make sure you aren't seen. I'll listen to it as soon as you get back."

"Right."

Once I got back, I went straight for the recording, but like usual, there wasn't anything of particular interest… I kept waiting for them to slip-up and reveal something. For the first few minutes they discussed Misa Amane's absence at the music show, and then Light changed the subject rather curtly.

"Anyway, we haven't had any success getting Kira to call you by having you address Kira on TV."

"Yes. Kira does answer back, but it's all written in the emails he sends along with the list of people who are to be brought to justice… Not going as we thought it would, is it?"

"But even if it's through the email sent to the head of the TV station, I'm sure there are things that we can find out about Kira from these emails you hand to me." I heard a rustle of paper.

"You think so?"

"I can figure out Kira's age, maybe the characteristics of the region he's hiding in. At the least, I can find out Kira's mental state from these… You know what kind of state the world is in right now, so I can't just send this email out for analysis to some specialist, but I've got the skills to do it, too. I'm going to work hard for our future."

"Light…" There was a long silence here. Light was trying to make the taskforce believe they were advancing in the case, when really they weren't making any headway whatsoever. Clever, but I had a feeling at least one of them wouldn't buy it. Given the situation up to this point, Aizawa was probably the most suspicious one, and probably the smartest.

"Then can you keep giving me all of Kira's emails? For our future…" Light said, rather convincingly.

"Okay. I believe in you, Light…"

That was pretty much all there was to the recording. I turned it off and shut the laptop. "Japanese people say 'Light' really funny," Matt commented as he played some old 2-D robot game on his NES.

"He's up to something," I commented back. "We're all running out of time."

"Yeah, but is it a good thing or a bad thing?"

I cracked off a hunk of bittersweet dark chocolate and licked my lips before I chewed. "Good for me, bad for Kira."


	25. Chapter 24

**+Part 24+**

**January 22, 2010**

**5:42 p.m.**

For the next couple weeks, I continued to tail Takada's every move, observing that Halle was truly her constant right hand, and seemingly earnest companion. Takada also kept a tracer on her person at all times that she had Halle remove once she was home at night. I would have to take that into account. My preliminary plans were all working out, and I researched as much as I could ahead of time so nothing would catch me off guard. Meanwhile, Matt continued to monitor Light's meetings with Takada whenever they happened, learning that the case on their end was also closing in. Time was rapidly running out.

"23 days…" I muttered aloud sometime in the evening of the 22nd, when I had nothing pressing to attend to for at least a few hours.

Matt was playing some game on his PS3 where he was a muscle-bound Spartan warrior tearing mythological beasts to shreds, and he didn't look up when he murmured, "Huh?"

"Near had Gevanni touch the notebook on January 1st," I said, "which means if he's not dead tomorrow, Near will move ahead with his plan."

"23 days…?"

"Yes. One of the rules of the murder notebook is that you can control a person's actions within a reasonable limit for up to 23 days before they die."

"23 days, huh? That notebook sure has some random rules. Like how you gotta write the cause of death in 6 minutes and 40 seconds, and if you don't write a cause, they die in 40 seconds from a heart attack… Weird."

"Yes… Shinigami certainly have an interesting, somewhat inconvenient way of doing things… Do you know how much easier things would be if you could use the notebook to have one person kill another person for you? It would almost obliterate suspicion. Of course, it's not inconvenient while you're watching our lowly little human world from above, carrying no worry of death or consequence. It's only inconvenient for mortals."

"…Do you really plan to take all the notebooks and use them for yourself, Mello?"

"Yes, I do, if the situation allows for it. That is my ideal outcome, anyway—my best-case scenario. I'll probably only use one, and just keep the other as insurance so no one can use it against me. Of course, I won't write in it personally."

"Why not?"

"Because one of the rules is that once a person uses the Death Note, even to write a single name, they can neither go to Heaven nor Hell when they die."

"…Is that a bad thing?"

"Don't try to be funny, of course it is. I already know I won't go to heaven but I'd rather burn in hell than simply vanish. To disappear as if I never existed… No, I can't allow that."

"…I could use it for you," he said after a while.

I looked up from where I was absently gazing out of a tiny hole in the window curtain at the street below. I stared over at him. He'd quit playing his game, and his character just stood in the middle of an open field on the screen. His hands weren't moving on the controller, just suspended there between his knees.

"What did you say, Matt?"

"If you wanted me to, I could use it for you. I could write the names you want in it."

"…Why would you say that?"

"I told you before, I'll do whatever you need me to do. As long as I'm useful to you I'll be satisfied. So if you want me to write in the notebook…"

"No," I barked, standing abruptly from my chair.

He looked over at me. "Why not? It's not like writing a name down is hard or anything. Even I couldn't mess THAT up—"

"Just shut the fuck up, Matt!" I hollered, and then bit my tongue and clenched my fist.

"Mello? Uh, what's wrong?"

I stormed off and he turned his head to follow me. "I need a shower." I slammed the bathroom door and leaned my hands on the sink, feeling a strange, driving sting in my chest. I shook my head over and over before I looked up at myself in the dingy mirror. What the hell is wrong with me? What is this…? A new feeling—hard and cold and razor-edged, the complete and utter opposite of the way Matt usually forced me to feel. With regards to new sensations, most of them had been physical of late. The night he saved my life from the mugger, perhaps there had been a small shred of sympathy, and definitely gratitude. But this…I simply didn't understand.

I ripped off every article of clothing except for my Rosary and cranked on the shower. I stood beneath it, dousing my face immediately in the hot spray. I rubbed my hands over my eyes and then pulled at my hair, soaking it. I hardly washed myself at all, I just stood in the bath and brooded, confused, irate. Why did I continuously question myself? It was new to me, unwelcome, and I had even told Matt myself that questions between us weren't worth a second thought, while hypocritically I continued to do so myself. Why? Always with that question—why? A single, tiny word, yet the gravity of its possibilities was unbearably heavy.

Were the concepts of Heaven and Hell so meaningless to him? What's more, why was it so important to me? It's not like I entertained delusions of virtue, or purity. I had allowed Matt to sodomize me several times and I'd even done the same, which was against the Bible right along with lying, stealing, and decapitation, to say the least. I'm no saint; I'm not even an ordinary sinner. I'm a monster, just slightly smaller in scale than Kira himself. So why am I so concerned? It's just in my blood, I supposed at last.

I clutched the crucifix of my rosary, pressing the shape of it into my flesh almost to the point of breaking skin. I was born under God and I would die and be punished according to His laws. As long as I was still in His realm, I would be satisfied. I could not simply disappear! If I did…then everything I'd fought for and lived through would be utterly meaningless! No!

As long as I have this rosary—the evidence of my plight—then I cannot abandon this holy mission. And it was holy, wasn't it? I would be taking down a god on earth and replacing him with my own divine judgment, or else I would burn in hell. This was my personal Holy Crusade. And as long as I have this rosary…there is no escape from that.

I stood there for nearly half an hour before I finally turned off the water, wiping my sopping gold hair out of my waterlogged eyes. I heard a knock on the door and looked over. "What?"

"Hey, uh…I'm gonna step out for a minute," Matt told me.

I swabbed a layer of water from my eyelids and upper lip. "It's not a good idea to go wandering around right now," I reminded him.

"I know. Just going to the garage for a minute… Might tune up your motorcycle or something." I heard him walk off before I could say anything. I listened to the front door open and shut.

I got out and dried off slowly, combing my hair and then getting dressed. I wandered over to the corner window in the bedroom, the one that faced the lot behind the building. Sure enough, he was propped on a stool beside my motorbike, fiddling with the engine. His vest was flung over the car hood. I continued to watch him for a while, trying to use logic to analyze my inexplicable new emotions. He loosened something with a socket wrench and then removed a section of the motor. He only paused to execute the necessary actions of his chain-smoking.

I continued to observe him as he tinkered around for a good hour, putting everything back together before he took off his gloves and stood, leaning against the car door and lighting up a fresh cigarette. I knew doing something with his hands was the only way he could vent his feelings, just like the only way I knew how to vent mine was to lash out with cruel impulses. Was he frustrated just as I was? Distracted? On edge? Were we feeling these same, strange things at the same time without knowing it?

I didn't like this—this not knowing myself. I'd always been completely aware of my every thought process, even if they were impulsive. My brashness itself was a part of me and was to be expected, and accepted. Lately however, my impulses were starving and dying, and my words and actions had dulled substantially. I would never go so far as to accuse myself of being gentle, but I had definitely been lenient; slack. Where Matt was concerned, anyway. So why?

I put on my jacket and shades and went outside, walking over to the garage and standing near the front bumper of the car, watching the spiral of smoke twist upwards from the end of his cigarette. The cinders burned, reddening with each intake of air from his lips. "Your motorcycle should run even better now," he commented through his pursed lips when I didn't say anything first.

All I did was nod with my hands in my jacket pockets. We stood there silently for a long time, the only sounds coming from the backdrop of the city beyond us, away from us. A noisy, crowded city that had all but bowed to Kira. A maze full of scampering rats without an exit. A glimmering new Babylon. Rome before the fall. How much time was left?

"Matt," I finally said.

"Hmm?"

"I…want you to tell me something honestly," I finally managed to say.

"Sure. I've never lied to you."

I paused at that. I had lied to him, more than once I'm sure. And I had also kept things from him—was still keeping things from him. Did he know that? Did he mind? Why did I keep doing it?

"I want to know what you think of me." Was that what I had really planned to say? I wasn't certain, but it was too late now.

He looked over at me, plucking the burning cigarette from his lips and exhaling smoke. "What I think of you?" I just nodded once. "Uh…well, I'm not sure how to answer that exactly... How do you mean?"

I turned to lean against the grill of the car, shaking my head. "I'm not even sure," I grumbled. "Never mind."

"…Mello? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I snapped automatically. "I'm just impatient. My mind is wandering when it shouldn't be… I'm finding it difficult to stay focused for some reason and it's making me inefficient."

"If you want to know what I think about something just ask, although it doesn't really matter, does it? It's what YOU think that matters."

"Yes…"

He walked over and I felt his hand grasp my shoulder. "But if you really wanna know what I think of you, that's easy." I turned to look up at him just as he leaned down to plant a kiss on my mouth. He pulled away not long after, leaving me staring at him. "It's not complicated, really, just hard to put into words for some reason. Words have never been my strong-suit, y'know."

He was right. He hardly ever spoke as a child, unless I persuaded or forced him. Even since we'd reunited he hadn't really said much of anything substantial…excepting the same occasions. Whenever he did speak though, it was always in fragmented sentences crippled by slang and improper grammar. He wasn't like me or Near or L in that regard. He operated either entirely in his head, or actively with his body. It wasn't the words that he cared for, so he didn't bother. Instead, he occupied himself with the things he enjoyed, the things he excelled at. There wasn't much room in him for anything else. Like me.

I blew my air through my nose and shook my head. "And I really don't understand that either."

"What?"

"This." I grabbed him by his shirt collar and pushed my lips against his, making his eyes pop open behind his goggles. I shoved him away after a few seconds and licked my lips. "It really doesn't make any sense."

"…What doesn't make sense? I mean, I AM damn sexy, after all. Who could really hope to resist me?"

I growled. "I swear you're delusional."

"C'mon, I know you have higher standards than that."

"What are you taking about?"

"You must like how I look or else why would you ever touch me? That's just how you are. The way you dress, act, and carry yourself…they all show how aware you are of your image, of how you appear to other people. Why would you be attracted to me if I WASN'T good looking?"

"…Again, your logic is moronic." But sound.

He shrugged. "I don't have a problem saying I like the way you look."

"Which doesn't make sense either," I grumbled.

"Why not?"

I bared my teeth at him briefly, not wanting to emphasize the obvious factor of my mutilated face and body. "For one thing, you've always been after women. Why would you suddenly change your preferences?"

"Eh, I think I've always thought of you that way."

"What? What way?"

He lit up a new cigarette and scratched his head. "Uh…y'know, THAT way. Like…mine, I guess."

I frowned severely. "Yours? You'd better have a seriously brilliant explanation for this if you want to keep your teeth."

"Well, uh, kinda… I mean, it works both ways too—I've always thought of myself as yours too, y'know? Girls are hot and all and I like hooking up with them, but I've never been interested in one for longer than a week or so. But…you were like the first friend I ever had, so…I just always kinda imagined we went together, like it just fit. It sounds kinda weird, I guess."

"…So when we were trying to out-dare each other that one night…and I had dared you to nail Roger's door shut…and then you came back with the hammer and dared me to kiss you…"

"Yeah, I just really wanted you to kiss me, that's all. I'd planned it for months ahead of time but it took me that long to work up the balls."

"You sneaky, perverted bastard."

"Heh, maybe, but it worked. First person I ever kissed was you."

Same for me. "You jackass."

"Yeah, I know. But it worked for getting you into bed too. I gotta be sneaky or I'd never get anywhere with you in that respect." I sighed. That was probably true. "I just…for a while I thought maybe we'd stick together, but I knew it wouldn't last forever. Nothing does. Usually I don't mind because things start to get boring after a while…but it's never boring with you…" He plucked the cancer stick from his lips and sighed smoke. "Oh well."

It began to rain after a while, the drops of water pattering the aluminum roof like tiny bullets, loudly echoing in the small garage. I watched it crash to the ground, splashing into muddy puddles soon enough.

"…Why did you say you would write in the notebook, Matt?"

"Because you need someone to do it and we both know it'd be better if it was someone you could trust. Hell, if you wanted I'd even make the Eye Deal so things would be easier. It's just half my life… I never leave the house and I'm not exactly a health-nut but it's not like I have chronic diabetes or something… I should have plenty of time to spare."

My face went taut and shriveled in on itself. How could he say all these things to me so easily? "But didn't you hear me when I said that when you die, you can't go to heaven or hell?" I demanded.

"What's the difference? When you're dead, you're dead. No matter what, it's all gone."

"Do you really feel that way?" I snapped, turning to him. "Is there really no God to you? No afterlife worth living? No souls?"

He scoffed. "Not especially, Mello. I think my mom took me and my brother to church sometimes but I was too young to really remember, and then she died and it didn't matter. I'm still not sure how it happened but my brother was convinced it was my dad's fault. Church never did anything for me personally and I've never been able to sit still through that kinda stuff anyway. It's all too much of a hassle. I don't have the energy for believing in anything. I can't even remember what she looked like…"

"But look at the bigger picture, Matt! You still have Heaven left for you!"

He chuckled, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "Get serious, man. I'm not exactly a model citizen."

"At the very least you'll go to purgatory where you can eventually ascend from."

He chuckled again, shaking his head. "I don't get all that mystical Catholic shit," he insisted. "It's all just voodoo to me. The only thing that matters to me at all is the here and now, the time we're alive. After that…who cares?"

"I do. I'll find some worthless criminal to write in it for me again and you won't do more than touch it."

"Okay. Whatever you want, Mello. I was just trying to help. I don't know why you're so upset over it."

"I'm not upset!" I yelled.

"Oh, really?" he muttered doubtfully. "I don't see what the big deal is. With the way you're talking we're not gonna end up in the same place after we die anyway, so what do I care?" My eyes opened wider in surprise, but he wasn't looking at me. "Might as well just disappear. Maybe I don't wanna linger around in purgatory or wherever the fuck it is. Just sounds like more waiting to me. Boring. I'd rather feel nothing—I'd rather just end."

Before I knew what I was doing, I was marching up to him and my hand was flying across his face. I knocked the cigarette right out of his mouth and it tumbled to the ground. He clamped his hand to his cheek and winced, his eyebrows lifting. "Fuck, man!" I slapped him again on the other cheek, jerking his head in the opposite direction. "Shit, ow! What the…?" I glared at him with both fists in his shirt collar, pinning him against the car before I realized.

I was in disbelief of my own reaction for a time, just looking at my fists, and then at the red marks on his face. I bared my teeth and stormed off. I left the garage, entering the downpour and being immediately battered by cold water.

Matt rushed after me, grabbing hold of my wrist. "Hey, wait!"

"Let go of me," I ordered, pulling away, the raindrops assaulting me as they became heavier.

"What the hell?" He reached out with his other hand and snatched my other arm. "Just wait!"

"Stop it! Fuck off!"

He dragged me back into the garage despite my protests, and I didn't want to openly attack him in case I might attract attention from the other tenants or any passersby. I struggled, but he wouldn't release me, so once we were under the cover and dripping with water I reared back and punched him, making him stumble back against the car. I wasn't at all sure why I was reacting so viciously.

"Jesus, would you calm down?" he exclaimed, spitting up a little blood. "What the hell is your problem? You haven't hit me like that since the first time we did it… Not that I hate it, but… Why are you so angry all of a sudden?"

"I don't know!" I roared, finally lowering my hands and tightening them both into brutal fists. I heard the leather of my gloves crinkle and crease loudly as my teeth gritted. "You just—piss me off! Your reckless nonchalance—pisses me off!"

"S-Sorry…"

"Goddamn you, don't apologize! You don't even realize you do it! You're just being honest when it happens, and it fucking—!" I hissed through my teeth. "I can't be that honest, not ever! And I do care what others think of me, and I do care where I end up! But you don't, you never have, and it makes me sick! You just stand there and calmly say that you'll give up half your life for Shinigami Eyes and it's no big deal—that you'll compromise everything your soul could possibly become just to write names in the Death Note for me! You'd take on all of that responsibility just because I vainly hope to end up burning in hell where I belong! Don't you know how fucking ludicrous that is coming out of your mouth—but how much sense it makes for you to say it? Your lack of self-preservation makes me so goddamn SICK!"

He wiped the blood from his mouth. "Uh, I—I…dunno what to say…"

"Don't say anything!" I whirled around and pressed one fist to the car window, wiping the wet hair from my face with the other. "It's what you say that upsets me! It's always the stupid, straightforward, selfless bullshit you say! I wish you'd just shut up! You aren't good with words but when they come out of you all it does it get under my skin! I wish I could just sew your fucking mouth shut!"

"Hey…" He put his hand on my shoulder and clenched. "It's okay, Mello… It's okay." Why was he saying that? "It's because we're near the end, isn't it?"

"…I don't know." Maybe. Probably. I wasn't sure.

"It'll be okay."

"How can you say that when you have no idea?"

"It's just…something people say to each other…y'know, to comfort each other?"

"No, I wouldn't know. I've never comforted anyone."

"You have."

"When?"

"Every time you touch me, even when you punch me, it's comforting."

"What the hell kind of deranged sense could that possibly make?"

"It lets me know you give enough of a shit about me to exert the effort. Like you said, you hate touching people, or getting touched by them. But I've always been the exception. And that's comforting..." He turned me around to face him, pressing us together by leaning against the roof of the car with one hand. "…Even when you hit me just to take out your own frustration, like just now. Even when you make me bleed—no, especially when you make me bleed…it's comforting."

"Matt… I don't know anything about what you're saying."

"Yeah, I know." He grabbed me close before he yanked open the car door and then flipped the front seat forward.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Take a guess." He lifted my whole weight by my shoulders and tossed me across the backseat. I barely caught myself with one hand before my head knocked against the cold leather.

I sat back up after hitting the musty upholstery, immediately lashing out. "How dare you?" I moved to get off the seat but he crawled in after, blocking the way. I glared in anticipation of his next move.

"Good idea. Let's play that game again," he suggested.

"What game?"

"The dare game. Remember, we always left out the truth part, and just kept daring each other with crazier and crazier ones until someone got in trouble."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Come on, let's go for it. Me first." He shut the car door behind us. "I dare you to strip."

"I am not going along with this," I growled.

"I figured you wouldn't." He shoved his goggles up onto his head. "But we can at least do it while we're back here. That'll be comforting for both us, right? No words necessary."

"I'm not doing this in the fucking car," I growled. He crawled across the seat to hover over me. I scoffed, shedding spit through my gritted teeth. "Just get away from me and let me out of here. It smells like motor oil."

"Doesn't it turn you on?" He kissed me abruptly so I punched him again on reflex. I still couldn't quite withhold my anger with him. He wiped his mouth and chin of the blood I'd caused him to shed and then shoved his arms at either side of me. We were close enough to feel each other's breathing and I could smell the scent of copper on his. Droplets of rain from his hair dripped now and then onto my face. "Can't you tell that I like it when you're rough with me?" I scoffed right in his face. "And why should I let you go anyway? It's all ending soon, right? Let's have fun while we can, huh?"

"Fun?" I questioned.

"Yeah, fun. Y'know, enjoyable activities that make you feel good?"

"I fucking know what the word means—this just isn't my idea of it!"

"Tell me what on earth could be more fun than getting lucky in the backseat of a '69 Camaro."

"…You don't want to know my answer to that."

"Maybe not." He reached down and slid off my sunglasses, tossing them before he started on my zipper.

"Damn you."

"No fair. You already said I was on my way to Heaven."

"I take it back. I was sorely mistaken."

"You're an asshole, but I like it."

He grabbed me by my jacket collar and hurled us together, this time searching with his tongue. I held onto his arms, fighting to resist the stabbing feelings as they collided within me. On one end, there was the cold stinging I couldn't decipher, but on the other end, there was the raw, sweltering lust, the need for momentary abandon he could offer. In moments I tasted the wet iron spice of his blood still pooling in his mouth and for some reason it motivated me. Why not? So many questions and there was really no reason to answer them. Forget them then. Push them away. Drown them out. Kill them! I'm good at that by now, aren't I?

"If we're doing this, we're doing it my way," I told him, jerking back with his blood on my lips. As I expected, he smirked. He took his hands from me and knelt back, holding them at either side of his head to show me I could do what I wanted. I rubbed my lips together, cleaning the blood off them with my tongue, before I reached up and shoved him back, making him hit the other side of the car. I got up onto my knees and removed my jacket, gloves, zippered shirt, and belt. "Well, what are you waiting for?" I hissed. "Strip."

He barely hesitated before he tossed away his goggles and then yanked his damp shirt over his head. His wallet chain and belt came next, but I didn't let him get any further before I ripped open his jeans and bent down, starting to lick him slowly, watching his torso bunch and flex. He moaned in his throat, trying to adjust his position since he was jammed up against the inner wall of the car. I didn't budge, forcing him to remain folded uncomfortably as I rolled my tongue in circles around his cock, feeling it fill in with heat as it lengthened and hardened, still partially marveling me as it did so at my coercion, under my power.

His hand darted forth to clamp the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair until I could feel his blunt fingernails against my scalp. He opened his mouth to let his breathing in and out, and I continued, using my hands now, feeling the battering fire under his flesh with my bare fingertips. I ventured to the softer tissue below, making his lower body leap forward with a start, his voice freeing itself in a ruddy groan of encouragement. His hips and legs lifted shakily, trying to pressure himself closer to me, so I took him in my mouth at last and pumped it full and empty, over and over.

"God, fuck…!" Matt sputtered, his nails digging into the skin at the back of my head. "That's good… Keep…going…" I pulled away, causing him to outright whimper with a heave of air from his chest.

"You don't give the orders around here," I said, licking my lips and sitting back up.

"You really are…an asshole," Matt mumbled, and wiped the sweat off his face before he launched himself forward, tumbling us onto the seat together. I hit my head on the seatbelt clasp and cursed, but he was already ripping open my pants and groping inside them, freeing me and immediately stroking. I snapped my teeth together and slammed my hands against his biceps. "The worst kind," he concluded.

"Something…wrong with that?" I growled through my teeth.

"Never said that." He manipulated my cock with one hand and then slithered his other around into the back of my pants, bringing my pelvis closer to his body so he could search my buttocks. My skin there stiffened in protest, but he found his way between and then his finger was breaching. I gritted my teeth even harder together, trying to keep my voice contained, even now, even when I openly gave my consent, even after we'd come this far. "What I said was…you're an asshole but I like it." He felt me out with one finger and then two, still jerking me off in sequence. "So, you gonna beg me for more?"

"I don't beg," I protested. "Dogs beg—and you're the dog."

"Yeah?" He doubled the effort in both his hands, sending repeated bolts through my spine and every one of my limbs and every last neuron of my brain. I turned my head away, fighting not to let out my voice as it urged me to. "What about if I…" He retracted his hands, peeling my leather pants off my hips and down to my knees. After that he grabbed me around the shoulders and yanked us upright together, all but hurling me into his lap and onto his erection, piercing me deeply with no hesitation. I cried out in a shock of pain and exhilaration, unable to stifle it. "Feel like it now? We could switch for a day… You could be the bitch and I could be the master… How's that sound?"

"Shut up…!" He aided me in removing my hooded undershirt, discarding it thoughtlessly before his warm, slightly callused hands returned. I threw my arms around his neck, making fists in his hair and halfway tearing it out as he forced me to ride him, clasping us together too tightly for me to maneuver. "Damn it!"

"What?" He started to kiss my chest, licking and biting in some places, making it even more impossible to shackle my groans. "Don't you like it this way?"

"I said we were doing this MY way," I grunted. "And that's never changing!"

"Guess you're right... Once a dog always a dog." He released me a little, and I propped one boot on the floor of the car and thrust over him with my hips, moving myself on him as he moved in me, refining the process to improve it for both of us. "Mmm…I like it when you boss me around, Boss," he chuckled into my neck. "You're a sick fuck when you wanna be… Treating me this way…but I can't say I don't like it…"

"I hate it when you talk," I breathed, bracing myself on both his shoulders to get more leverage. I pressed one knee more firmly to his hip and then pushed more forcefully against the floor with the toe of my boot. "I hate everything you say…!" Every single one of my muscles were twisting thinner and thinner, trying to destroy me from within as my lungs wrenched themselves and my mouth brimmed with saliva. "I hate it!"

"But I like it when you yell at me," he whispered at the base of my left ear, before he nipped at it. "And I also like it when you moan all feeble like this…" I tore more fiercely at his hair as I felt myself ending, towering, the pulsating demand in me urging to claw itself loose.

"Fuck, I'm…!"

"Go ahead, Mello." I growled under my breath before I couldn't withhold it anymore and came against him, arcing my spine but unable to catch my breath because he still wasn't finished. "My turn, Boss." He lifted me off himself and spun my body in his arms, slamming the front of me back onto the seat beneath us. I all but bit my tongue as my chin made contact, one of my arms folded awkwardly underneath my chest. He heaved my lower body up by my thighs and then rammed us back together, stabbing deep and rough and then recommencing his actions eagerly.

I could hardly breathe, tasting nothing but my own drool mixed slightly with his blood. My wet hair was pasted to my face and neck and my arms were aching from my fists clenching so tightly. "God," I hissed, unleashing my drool and staining the fabric under my face. I reached forward with my free hand, looking for anything to grab onto, and ended up coiling it in the seatbelt strap. How could he go from demanding I fuck him with authority to treating me like this? There was more to him than I realized, but I couldn't deny that I was the same way…simultaneously enjoying dominating his every move and being penetrated like a dirty slut. How could I be both? And how could he be both? Damn it!

Matt lifted me up so I could free my arm, and I held myself up on all-fours as he continued, never slowing. "Matt," I exhaled.

"What is it, Mello?"

"I'm not begging…this is an order," I clarified.

He snickered. "Sure thing. What you wanna say?" He leaned down closer over my body with his own, until I could feel his breathing rustle my hair.

I couldn't stop myself from salivating or making noise, and my other hand shot forward, sliding against the tiny back window. I felt the dampness of condensation and glanced up to see all the glass in the car was fogged over. "Matt…"

"Still waiting," he uttered lowly behind my ear, a couple of his fingers brushing through my hair before he gripped a clump of it, snagging it away from my face. "What?"

"…I hate the way you do this to me," I hissed angrily, infuriated suddenly. I was frustrated with myself all over again, because I couldn't rightly be frustrated with him.

"Do what…? The way I fuck you? The way I make you come? The way I

make you scream?"

"Yes, all of it! No matter what I've said, no matter what the circumstances, no matter how it ends up…I want you to know that I hate it! You'd better know, and you'd better remember!"

"I'll remember," he laughed faintly, still thrusting and heaving until I felt his entire frame wrap tautly around me as he emptied his fluids inside, moaning fervently with it. He slumped heavily on top of me as I went limp, as if my skeleton instantly turned to liquid in my molten flesh. The only sounds now in the crushing blanket of damp silence were our lungs struggling, and our heartbeats blurring together—and then far off, seemingly an eternity away, the rain pummeling the roof.

When we were both recovered, he sat back and lit up a cigarette. I replaced my pants and laid back. There was no real room on the seat, so I had to rest my head on Matt's lap. He didn't seem to mind, and just lounged back, puffing smoke into the car interior, blanketing us both in a humid mist of nicotine and sweat. He went through a whole cigarette without us saying a single word, and then started on another.

After a long while like this, I discovered I was absently running my fingertips over the marred half of my face, catching myself a little late. I lowered my hand away from my face and instead fiddled with my rosary. I had to keep hold of my resolve, no matter what. This rosary would be the contract to keep me walking down this path without reservations.

Matt was halfway through his new cigarette when he noticed, and picked it up by the crucifix, looking it over. "…Do you really think I'd go to heaven?" he asked quietly.

I glanced at his hand and then up at him. "Maybe not, but you wouldn't go to hell."

"Why not? I've done some bad shit."

"You are not wrathful, violent, or a heretic, nor are you a mortal sinner."

"What's a mortal sinner?"

I looked fully up at him now. "Someone like me," I answered. "Someone who commits egregious acts of violence against others and feels no remorse. Someone without guilt."

Guilt? It hit me then, like a ton of fucking bricks. That new feeling—iced and hard and lancing painfully deep in the pit of my meager humanity—that feeling was guilt. I blinked and my brow creased as I stared at his calm, careless expression. This was guilt, it had to be. I had never felt it before in my entire life but I had now…over Matt. Over what I had put him through, and what I still intended to subject him to.

"But you've felt remorse before," he was saying.

I snapped myself out of my daze, trying to hide my discomfort. "What are you talking about? How would you know?"

"Soichiro Yagami," he said, and I bit my teeth together behind my lips. "Every time you've mentioned him…your voice fell and your face got all tight. You didn't want to kill him. You regret it."

"I don't," I disagreed. "You're right, I had no desire whatsoever to kill him. He was truly a good cop, and a righteous man, and it's a shame that he put himself in that position. But if I hadn't killed him, I would be dead now. I had no choice, and I do whatever it takes to survive. If I could do it over again, the outcome wouldn't change—which means I don't regret it."

"But you still feel bad."

"Yes, perhaps I do, but that doesn't make up for anything else I've done." Or the things I'm going to do.

"Well, it's not like I've ever done anything especially nice for other people. I only care about myself, and I always break the rules. I'm not a good person like you think I am."

"Wrong, Matt. All you've ever done to sin is steal and take advantage of ignorant people. You've broken the petty laws of man several times, but you've never truly harmed anyone out of spite or anger or vengeance. Hell wouldn't waste its time on you."

"…So what if I killed somebody? Would I go to hell then?"

"...That would depend on the context. If it was out of cold blood and completely unwarranted…and you didn't desire forgiveness…then probably."

"Hmm…"

"Anyway, I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm finished with the subject, so there's no need to concern yourself."

"…Okay. If you say so."

"What we need to do is concentrate on the task at hand. The time has almost come."

"…Right."

All I could do was listen to him smoke as the rain outside continued to fall. His fingers still fiddled with my rosary on my chest, letting me feel every callus, every tiny scar, every blemish. His hands, as I'd more and more observed, were scarred fairly consistently up to the wrist. I imagined they were the results of anything from soldering slips, welding accidents, tool incidents, metalwork, or simple cigarette burns. He worked with his hands the way I worked with my mental facilities. We really weren't alike in many ways at all. Virtually incompatible. I really hadn't meant to keep him here, with me, for so long into this mission. I'd had to recalculate, but the more I thought it over, the more I realized I had unconsciously planned everything around him, to include him. Why? That question again…and the only thing there to answer it was the pattering of the rain on the cheap metal above us.

**January 25, 2010**

**1:04 a.m.**

"To hell with Kira.

What matters to me is L.

L."

I stared at the words I had typed up on the document in my laptop, pausing just long enough to take a quiet bite of my chocolate. Matt was passed out on the sofa, the television still on, and I sat in my chair with the screen glaring at me, determined to at least accomplish something of a last word here at the end. It had been longer than 23 days now, and Halle still hadn't called me to let me in on Near's plan. If she didn't do so today, I would make my move without her information. I continued to tap away at the keyboard, just letting it pour out of me as easily as if I were speaking it.

"…Well, I may not have been able to succeed him, but I want to leave this behind.

So what you're reading now are my notes about L. It's a dying message, not from me, and not directed at the world. The person who will most likely read this first will probably be that big-headed twit Near. But if that's the case, I will not tell him to shred or burn these pages. If it causes him pain to discover I knew things about L that he did not, that's fine."

I paused to take another bite, listening to Matt grumble something inaudibly and roll over, flinging an arm off the couch. It was fine to let him sleep while he could. Soon this case would break wide open, and no one would be able to tell the outcome—not me, not Near, not Kira. I began typing again.

"There's also a chance that Kira might read this…and I hope he does. If these notes tell the murderer, who only got by with the help of a supernatural killing notebook and an idiot of a Shinigami, that he was, under any other circumstances, not even worth the dirt beneath L's shoes, then they have served their purpose." 

Even doubly so, because L hardly ever bothered to wear shoes. I smirked to myself and took another bite, seeing it was nearly 2:30 in the morning. Almost as soon as I checked, I received a message that Halle had attempted to call me. I got up and walked into the moldy back storage room that had thus far been unused by us, so as not to disturb Matt. The female mannequins were still piled up all over and caked with dust in the corner behind the single measly lounge chair. I sat myself down on it and called her back.

"Mello," she said softly. "Takada is asleep and I just got off my conference with the SPK."

"I'm listening."

"Near's plans have all come together. He says he's planning to bring an end to this case with his own hands."

"…He's planning to face Kira?"

"Yes. He says he's made all the necessary preparations, and on the 28th we are all supposed to meet with the members of the Japanese taskforce…and have our names written in the notebook."

I felt my hand grip the phone so tightly it hurt. "…Near plans to end this case…by having his name written in the notebook…?"

"Yes…that's what he said… I'm worried, Mello… What could he be thinking?"

I slumped forward, dropping my elbows to my knees and staring hard at the dirty floor beneath my boots. This is it. This is the end. I was ready to plan around each and every possible outcome—except for this. Damn you, Near! Damn you and your fucking sense of lofty justice! You demented little fool!

Having his name written in the notebook…just to prove that Light Yagami is Kira… Near would never knowingly throw his life away, so he definitely had a failsafe set up…but there's no way Kira would fall for something like that. Not when it came to the notebook. He had a devil's intellect, the Shinigami, and a damnable amount of wicked luck on his side, and Near was far too naïve to do what had to be done… He was fucked, and so were the rest of us. If I didn't do something first, then Kira would win. I couldn't let that happen, it wasn't an option. And I couldn't bow out and let Near take all the credit without a fight. If this was his plan, then…

"…Then I guess I'm going to have to do it."

"Mello? What do you mean…? Mello?"

I hung up on her and dropped my phone to the floor, leaning my forehead in my hand and then making a fist in my hair. With each second that passed, I found myself fortifying my final resolve. I am going to win this. I am going straight to the top, by any means, no matter what, and no one is going to get in my way. Not anymore. This is it.

I'll be Number One even if I have to die to do it.

I returned to the living room to finish typing up my final report, my only report, my recording of what really went on during the Los Angeles B.B. Murder Case—the schism that had sent ripples through every room at Wammy's House, and changed things for L forever. My mentor… Though I hardly ever saw him in person, he had taken me aside and told me personally of three of his most pivotal cases, the one about B being the top of his list despite its small scale, and it had been the only one that had him visibly perturbed. I still wondered, to this day, why L had deigned tell ME these things he hadn't ever told another soul, except perhaps Watari. With reasonable deduction, I'd like to think it was because I was the only one of his unfortunate heirs who would know what to do with the information. Near would cling to it as further evidence for worship, and Matt would absorb it as no more than a good story from a man he admired.

But I… I knew it was more. I knew it was the cause for everything to change—why L no longer came to Wammy's House in person to speak to the children, why his lessons were taught scarcely and through a computer, why our true identities were kept masked from the very instant we entered the door—and why they stayed that way, unknown to the world and even each other. And why I was almost completely certain that L had wished for his legacy to die with him, and not pass on, because with just the right twist of fate or happenstance of judgment, any one of us orphans could become just like B.

And L never wanted a tragedy like that to reoccur, ever. So he separated himself from us, carefully cultivating only our strongest points, so that we might grow to live our own lives, not covet his. L knew that he could only tell me, because only I would understand. So writing this now…was the absolute least I could do.

It took me seven straight hours to complete, no time or need for revision, and then I printed it out, watching the machine banish page after page of my last words, almost mocking me with their neatly arranged letters and predetermined font. I placed the manuscript in a manila envelope and sealed it, simply signing "M" on the front. I slid it into a drawer in the kitchen, where it would be easily found by anyone searching the place. If they bothered to read it, they would know my words… L's words…

My last will and testament as Mello of Wammy's House.

"Good memories and nightmares**."**


	26. Chapter 25

**+Part 25+**

**January 25, 2010**

**7:32 p.m.**

I spent the rest of the day making my very final preparations. I acquired a new two-seater motorcycle, and then reviewed the business operations of a couple local small shipping companies that I had been monitoring for this purpose. I settled on one called, "Transport! Inc" since its procedures were far from complex and I could afford zero mistakes. I hijacked one of their trucks and stole a uniform, making sure it had a full tank of gas before I parked it in the alley beside the lot. I ensured it was hidden from the street, and then had Matt check the engine thoroughly to make sure it was in prime condition. I topped off the motorcycle next, and instructed Matt to be sure the car was full as well, and also that he prepared everything he would need. I organized a few last minute details, looking through the equipment in the back of the truck. All they had in there were a few empty boxes and some blankets for wrapping fragile goods. I packed some bottles of water and medical supplies, and also put some tools in the motorcycle's saddlebags just in case I ran into any unforeseen mechanical problems. I also packed a box of other, less conventional "tools," for use in Takada's interrogation.

I'd been checking some isolated places ahead of time, and decided to go with my favorite choice—an abandoned Christian chapel outside Nagano, which was about a couple hour's distance from town on the highway, near Karuizawa. It was crumbling apart and soon to be condemned, and judging by its current satellite photos, it would be the ideal location to avoid being seen or heard. I would take her there. It would be fitting for Kira's final judgment to be determined in a decrepit house of God, after all. Almost poetic.

As the hours passed in relative silence, my only thoughts were on the plan ahead, but as the evening wore on and all my preparations were at last complete…I found all I had left was a single loose end. Now, like before, there was inescapable guilt, an emotion I couldn't spare room for. Not here. I was taking Kira down with my own hands, at the expense of everything, and I absolutely could not allow for a distraction like this.

"I'm going to be frank, Matt," I said as I shut the television off in front of him.

"What's going on, Mello?" he said, slightly irritated at being interrupted in the middle of his new game, where he got to play as a voluptuous British witch who became more and more naked the tougher your combos were.

"This is important. I need you to listen to me seriously, and pay close attention."

"…Okay." He set the controller down and tapped the ash off the cigarette he was smoking. I sat myself down in the chair across from the sofa where he was. He looked at me, waiting.

Now was the time. "Everything's almost ready, so we're going to go ahead and make our move tomorrow."

"Tomorrow for sure? That's good news, right?"

I shook my head once. "Near is going to end everything with a single, decisive move—a lethal move. If we don't act tomorrow, I'm certain Kira will destroy everyone who's been chasing him up to this point. Near will ruin it all…if I don't do this now."

Matt seemed to think about that for a moment. "…So you're saving his ass? That doesn't sound like you."

"I know that," I scoffed. "And believe me, I keep telling myself to just leave it alone and let Near die so I'll have no more obstructions… If he and the rest of the investigators dropped dead, I would have a clear path straight to Kira, but for some reason…I can't."

"It's okay, Mello. I know why you can't." I looked up at him. "You and Near had something I could never understand. It's okay if you feel that way, and you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. Near's a prick, and your whole life has revolved around grinding him into the dirt, but after all that, he's still…our little brother." My eyes narrowed, the grotesque truth of his words stinging my pride. I couldn't deny it, I had already admitted it to myself, and so I nodded. "But you've accepted that. It's not what's really bothering you," Matt told me. "It's not what this is about."

"No," I agreed. "I also can't stand to think that Near will face Kira without me getting my own shot first. I want to rip his victory right out from under his feet, while there's still a chance. That's why it's got to be tomorrow."

He nodded. "I follow you. So what's the deal?"

I could smell smoke soaking every molecule of my vicinity, and hated to think of that customary fact of life coming to an end, for some ridiculous reason. "…We've both been watching the NHN woman, and the number of her bodyguards only continues to expand. We both know they're Kira fanatics, and in this day and age there's no doubt they're trained and armed. I need you to be the decoy so I can kidnap Takada and disrupt Kira's plans."

"Yeah, I remember."

"But being a decoy comes with great risk. I honestly don't think they would openly gun you down in the street if they caught you, since the news choppers will be following…but the world is falling farther and farther under Kira's influence. If they do capture you and you live through it…you'll only be subjected to the law of Kira later on, and I can only imagine the torture they'd put you through then. Despite my optimistic assumptions, Matt…there's a very good chance you could die during this mission."

I lifted my gaze to him, my muscles burning in apprehension as my chest crushed in on itself. He was listening intently, possibly for the first time. The cigarette was burning away in his lips but he wasn't inhaling any of the smoke at the moment, just letting it float away.

"But you're confident the plan will work, right?" he said at last.

"Yes, I'm confident… We've both been preparing for weeks, and everything I've worked on has led up to this, but there are many unpredictable variables…many things I can't foresee. Anything could go wrong."

"But as long as you think it'll work, then I'm fine with it. If you need me to be a decoy, I'll do it. I'm a kickass driver anyway, so they won't catch me."

Again his words roused me to fury—fury I couldn't contain. "Damn it, don't you hear what I'm saying!" I demanded, standing up swiftly. "I just told you you're going to die!"

"No, what you said was there's a chance, but you don't think it'll happen. That's good enough."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you so fucking relaxed?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I shook my head as my vision clouded with rage. "…Why are you getting so angry? I told you that whatever you needed me to do, it wouldn't be a problem. It's all worked out so far. Just use me, Mello. You need me to do something and I'm gonna do it, so why are we arguing?"

"Fuck!" I hissed, turning to the side and waving a dismissive gesture at him. "You're hopeless, damn it! Why did I even warn you? Why did I even bother? Fine, you're right! I don't care if you die! You're just a tool, and I don't care how a tool feels—all I care about is how well the tool works the way it's supposed to! Forget I said anything and just get back to your game!"

Damn him, why did I even try? Why did I have to say anything? I'd already tried this with him, hadn't I? So why all the questions? Why the doubts, the hesitation, the ice-cold fucking guilt? It wasn't like me, and I hated it, and so I hated him for forcing it on me!

I stomped away but he grabbed my arm, and for some reason I couldn't bring myself to beat him to a pulp like I so desperately wanted to.

"Mello, relax," he said, pulling me to him easily, in spite of my outrage. "I'm glad you're upset," he told me, right to my face. "It's been happening so often lately…that I think I was caught off guard for a while…but now I know it makes me feel important. I hardly ever get to feel important around you, even though I know I am. I'm probably the only one who knows that feeling in the whole world and I'm good with that." I shook my head. "No, stop trying to put up this front with me," he demanded, a little roughly. "It won't work anymore. I see what you're trying to do—you want me to argue so you'll have an excuse to dismiss me. You want me to try and run away so you can shrug me off. You want me to leave because you want to save me without jeopardizing your pride, Mello." I didn't answer—I couldn't. So I looked away. He was right! "Yeah, I know…but I don't want to be saved, okay? I want to be where you need me to be. You said you'd take my word for it from now on. You said we had no more need for questions. You said we should accept it."

"…I know that. I did…and I do. I just… I don't WANT to!"

"Yeah, I know." He was still holding my arms, keeping me near him. "I like that," he told me quietly.

"Well, good for you," I sneered, pushing him away. He persisted, sliding his hands over my shoulders. "Quit it! I'm not in the mood for this! I can't take it anymore! You keep wrecking everything! If you stay…I'll…!"

"Listen, Mello, I may not be the same to you that you are to me, but I do know what I am. I'm not your brother or even your lover, I know that," he told me, lightly shaking me. "But I do know I'm your friend, the only friend you've ever had. That's what matters, get it? That's why I don't mind being used this way, because at least then I'm something you can't replace."

I stared at him, not understanding his faithfulness. I just could not absorb it or take it in. He had always been this way, hadn't he? Devoted without seeming to care? Honest without having regrets? Singularly loyal without any sense of consequence? But this devotion of his was entirely bittersweet—and I found that here, at the end, I could hardly stand it anymore. Here, at the end, it was all caving in on me. I didn't think my shoulders could bear its weight. I had no admirable conscience, of course not, but this was different. This burden he forced on me was more than guilt or remorse or even the most humane of heartbreaks—it had to be something sharper, harsher, more brutal, if it could affect ME so deeply. Nothing should be able to! I don't want any distractions, any misgivings! I'm not that weak! Why is he able to do this to me? And why can't I understand?

"Just stop it, Matt," I hissed. "I understand, okay? That's enough! Enough already! Shut up!"

"Okay…"

I pushed away again, not so forcefully this time, and he let me go. "We need to go over the plans again… Everything has to go perfectly, without room for error. We'll review the maps, the satellite photos, the timing… Everything again." He nodded as I expected he would and so I began to walk away. I made it past him but suddenly he hurried after me, grabbing hold of my arm again.

"Wait," he said urgently, the only time I'd heard urgency in his voice— when I wasn't in mortal peril that is. "I want to tell you something, Mello."

"…Fine. What is it?"

"Tomorrow is important, I know. And I know you've planned ahead even further than you're telling me. Tomorrow decides it all—we're bringing down Kira and avenging L. We're finishing the mission no matter what. Tomorrow is strictly business, so I want to say this now while there's still time." I stared at him, waiting, feeling an apprehension I had never known build up from my core. He bit his lip once before he opened his mouth again. "I want to tell you my name, Mello…my REAL name."

My eyes opened wide, disbelieving, but he held onto me, a look of intensity in every inch of his visible expression. Immediately I rejected the idea. "No," I said, shaking my head. "You don't need to tell me. It's better if I don't know. If something goes wrong—if Kira gets control of me…!" I shook my head again. "I tested the notebook and you can't make people do something impossible. I can't give away your name if I don't know it. If we fail…and Kira wins against Near, he'll kill everyone without ever knowing I had an accomplice, and if Near wins against Kira, there'll be no need to find you. I'LL be the only one in a position where Kira could control me with the notebook to get what he wants, so I can't be allowed to know your name. DON'T tell me."

"I don't care about that," he insisted. "If I might die, I want you to know it. All Wammy kids walked through the halls as nameless blanks, ready to be carved and shaped into backup copies of L. People like us don't need names or even faces. People like us aren't meant to have lives or identities. We aren't meant to even exist, except as rumors. L broke the rules and it got him killed, but I'm not a puppet and I can make my own decisions. If I might die anyway, I want you to know the name I was born to—the only thing that proves I'm human. My dad probably killed my mom and he didn't want me or my brother, so I always hated the name he gave me. But it's still mine, and you're the only person I'd want to tell it to. No matter what, we have to hold on to something, even if we're damned, even if we're not normal. We can't let everything slip if it might all end tomorrow. I told you I don't care about heaven or hell, but I do care about here and now, and right now…I want you to know it."

I was nearly speechless after that, after the severe profoundness in his lazy voice. I couldn't see his eyes fully behind his orange lenses, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. I didn't know what that entailed. I didn't know how much of him remained to be seen or understood, how much of him I'd dismissed and overlooked. I'd missed so much, and now I might not have any time to get it back.

I nodded once, slowly. "Alright…you can tell me. What is it?"

He forced an inward flinch of my spine when he yanked his goggles down off his face. He let them drop around his neck, focusing his thick pupils through the dusty clover-green of his eyes. I would've liked to call them unused, since I knew I was the only person left who'd seen them more than once or twice. He took a deep breath, reaching out to grab my other shoulder tight, as if to steady himself in place.

"…It's Mail. Mail Jeevas. M-A-I-L J-E-E-V-A-S." He exhaled steeply, half-smiling at me as he chuckled. "That's the first time I've heard it out loud in like…twelve years."

"Mail Jeevas," I repeated, meeting his eyes against my better impulses.

"Yeah… It sucks, I know…but it's mine." I nodded, not sure what else to do. "Okay then, now that THAT'S off my chest..." He patted one of my shoulders casually and then trotted off, lifting his goggles back over his eyes and adjusting them.

That was it? He told me and it was done? Didn't he even…?

"Stop," I barked, so quickly I hadn't even thought of doing it. I heard him quit walking so I turned to him. He was heading for the equipment, ready to sort through and do a double-check on what he needed no doubt, but he halted and returned my gaze.

"What's wrong?"

It was against my better judgment, against every warning alarm in my brain, against every raging fiber in my body. I gritted my teeth, breathing deep, clenching my fists.

"…Mihael…Keehl," I growled, unable to say it calmly or gently. "My name is Mihael Keehl. M-I-H-A-E-L K-E-E-H-L." I hadn't heard it out loud in over a decade either, not until Yagami had said it right before he died. It was a shock to hear then, almost as if I didn't recognize the sound of it. Surreal. Painful. More like a curse than a nostalgic memory.

Matt didn't seem to react at first. He just looked at me; I knew it even as I couldn't see past his goggles. He slowly lit up a fresh cigarette, puffed it, and blew the smoke through his lips.

"Mihael, huh?" he commented. "I like it. It's a hell of a lot better than mine, anyway." He grinned, showing teeth, but it wasn't smug or obnoxious. It was just a smile, the simplest he'd ever given.

"…It's Slavic," I continued, my blood boiling in recoil. Secrecy was ingrained into my very DNA by now, and I was acting against an entire life of training and conditioning. I didn't know why I was doing it, but I was determined to tell him everything that I had never told another living soul, suddenly, earnestly. "It's a variant of Michael, meaning 'who is like God.' I can't remember the faces of any of my family, but I vaguely remember a couple of the other children, my siblings I assume, the older ones who called me Miha. I ran away when I was probably not even six, and everything between then and the Convent is a blur. I woke up with the nuns and they saw that I'd been beaten and kept me there. They baptized me like new and gave me my First Communion…and then some arsonists burned the Convent down and most everybody was killed. I found out the same arsonists burned down my home as well, ironically enough, and that's when I became an orphan… I don't know how I ended up at Wammy's House. Somebody must have found me…but that's all I can remember. That's everything. You know the rest."

He nodded once, his face not quite in awe but not at all at ease. Of course he was surprised at my forthcoming confession, which was given without a shred of insistence. His cigarette was still smoking, but he wasn't inhaling, so the ash just burned away in his lips again. He took a few steps back towards me, and then stopped.

"…I was born in Ireland," he said suddenly. "My folks were poor, dirty, and drunk, and my mom just suddenly wasn't there one day. My dad told me and my older brother that she died, and my brother…his name was Liam… He used to tell me it was Dad who killed her. He only got louder and drunker as time went on, and beat the hell out of both of us. Liam took off as soon as he was old enough, but he didn't take me with him. Didn't even say goodbye. It was probably too hard for him, so I can't really blame him…but he left his sport goggles behind. I took them and ran away after my dad locked me out in the cold one night…and he killed himself not long after that. I went through a few foster homes before I ended up at Wammy's. That's pretty much all there is to tell about that…" He scratched his head before he continued. "It doesn't even compare to what you went through... I got used to being overlooked, and so I just quit trying to be somebody. When L picked me…it was something new, but I still wasn't first choice, or even second. I was a 'just-in-case' model, ready if the real two choices failed. The backup to the backup's backup."

He shrugged a little and then took a deep drag, blowing out the smoke with a sigh. "But you… Mello, you know…you're the first person who's ever really…needed me. That's why I stuck with you no matter how you treated me. When you and Near got chosen for L's heirs, you had better things to think about, and I didn't want to get in your way. Nobody needed a Number Three, and I could tell you wanted to beat Near more than anything. That's something I couldn't help you with, something you had to do on your own, so I left to give you the space you needed. I go where you need me to go, Mello. Even if you don't say it out loud, I can tell what you want, what you need. I've always been there, occupying the empty space next to you, under your boots, or wherever you require. That's my place, where I belong, where I'll always belong—at the end of your chain."

He plucked the cigarette from his lips, lowering it and flicking the ash slowly, never deviating the gaze of his unseen eyes. I could feel them on me, penetrating through fiberglass, through his internal blockade of disinterest and solitude, and even through the wall I had built around myself—the wall I had thought was impenetrable.

"Matt," was all I could say.

For the first time, I had no harsh words come to my tongue, no anger cloud my vision, no retaliation ready in my brain. For the first time, it was simply the silence left in the wake of his words. There was nothing else to do but for me to accept them. There was nothing left to say, nothing I could possibly need to say. There wasn't even a single question. He'd said it all, and that was that. It was that simple. Could that truly be how he felt all this time? Then, his tattoos…could they really mean…?

He walked back over to me, cigarette held loosely between his index and middle fingers, almost forgotten again. "I think that's the first time you listened to every word I said without a fight or a comeback," he observed, lifting his free hand almost tentatively. He slid it over my shoulder and down against my back, bringing me to his chest. We were almost the same height in our boots, so my chin pressed to his shoulder. His arm went all the way around me, holding me there, firmly but cautiously. His breath was suddenly warm beside my ear. "Is this okay?" he asked.

It took me too long to say, "Just shut up and don't ask," and by then I had curled my fingers into his shirt. I didn't remember doing it. He clasped me more tightly against him, moving to place his cigarette back in his mouth so he could use both arms. He tightened his grip, trapping me securely within his embrace. That spike of alarm went through me like it always did—that reflex to push away, to escape, to banish this nervous discomfort from me. I ignored it. I let my mind spiral away and just persistently ignored it.

"Mello," he said, still humming low in my ear, "are you afraid of dying?"

"…No," I answered, automatically. "If I die, I'll die with a purpose. I regret nothing, and ask no one for forgiveness. I meet my fate head-on. I have no reason to be afraid—I haven't been afraid since I can remember."

"Really? You weren't even afraid when the base blew…or when the mugger held the knife to your throat?"

"No. I was prepared. It's all or nothing in this game."

"I was afraid," he confessed.

"You were?"

"Yeah… When I saw you like that after the base blew…it was the first time I was afraid since… Heh, well, since you fell out of the tree when we were little." His arms gripped me even tighter. "You didn't see the way you looked that night after you got back…how bad it was… And then when you quit breathing…and when you went into your coma and couldn't stop screaming… I'd never seen you like that before… I'd never seen you show any kind of pain before at all, not ever. Even on the playground if you fell and scraped your knee, or you got into a fistfight with the older kids and were bruised all over, or tumbled out of that tree…you never cried. Even when that guy had the knife to your throat…I was terrified, but you hardly even blinked. I always thought you were invincible, and I felt invincible too when I was with you. We were just unwanted kids they were trying to brainwash…but I still miss those days. I miss the times before mind games and quests for justice. I miss not having a care in the world. I miss how simple it was when we were inseparable. We were hardly ever apart back then, remember?"

"…Yes, I remember," I said. "I hated you when you first showed up. We were both seven, but you were a quiet, reclusive, nerdy slob and I hated you at first sight."

"Yeah. You tormented me any chance you got. You threw things at me and tripped me in the halls and took my lunch and stole my toys… You were such a little bastard to me for weeks."

"I know, but nothing I did could affect you. You ignored me like I didn't exist, and that pissed me off more than anything. I finally got a rise out of you when I tried to take your Gameboy. We rolled around on the floor throwing punches and kicking and pulling hair…and when we finally quit…I didn't hate you anymore."

"When you dragged me outside to play the next day I thought you'd lost it, but we just pretended nothing happened. We were together almost every day after that, huh?"

"Yes…until L decided me or Near would succeed him. You got pushed out of the picture after that… I knew it was happening but I couldn't stop it… I…really didn't even try." I shut my eyes against his shoulder. "You didn't even see me before you left."

"You needed me gone, Mello, I know you did. If I had pushed you, I would've become a distraction. I guess things eventually turned out that way anyhow, didn't they?"

"I guess so…" I let out my breath. "It almost seems like none of it ever really happened… It wasn't even that long ago…but it feels like it's hanging on the edge of my memory, ready to fall."

"It does seem like that, huh? Hard to believe we were like that once. Guess we can't ever go back to being that way."

"No, we can't," I said. "I don't even know what we are now…even here at the end… God, I'm not even sure what I am…"

"That's fine," he replied. "Like you said, it's all or nothing…so we shouldn't think too much about it." He began to rub his hands lightly over my lower back. "And what WE are…" He took a drag and exhaled smoke through his nostrils, chuckling dismissively. "Nah… It doesn't need a name. It just IS. That's all."

I twisted my fists in his shirt, listening to him puff small drags of the cigarette in his lips. "…Are YOU afraid to die, Matt?" I asked, my face still pressed into his shoulder, lips against his hair, inhaling the scent of nicotine with every breath.

"I thought I would be," he said. "I mean, it's not like I've done very much with my life, but that doesn't mean I wanted it to end so soon." I frowned harder. "But…now that I'm here facing it…I'm not scared at all."

"You're not?"

"No. I was always willing to do whatever you needed me to do, but I thought when it came down to the wire—a matter of life and death—I would be pretty terrified. But I'm not. I feel invincible again now that I'm with you. If this is the end, I'm satisfied. It's not like I have any unfinished business, or very much to lose. All I got is what I can do for you. As long as I die doing what you need me to do, then there's no reason for me to be scared."

"…I can't STAND you!" I said harshly. "I can't stand how easy it is for you to say anything, no matter what it is! I can't stand how simple and honest and easygoing you are! I can't stand your voice or your face or those goddamn video games you always play! I can't stand the way you dress or any of your annoying little habits! I can't stand you! Why are you this way? It doesn't make any sense! Why are YOU the ONLY one…?" I bit my tongue and scoffed through my teeth, cutting off my thoughts before they could finish themselves. "GodDAMN you…!"

He chuckled briefly. "I'll just translate that to something meaningful in my head." He moved away to look at my face, grinning behind the remaining stump of his still-smoking cigarette.

"This is the last time I'm going to tell you," I barked under my breath, shoving him back by his chin. I snatched the cigarette from his lips and crushed it in my gloved fist, dropping it after. "…There are better things you can do with your mouth."

"Yeah?" His eyebrows went up on his forehead. "Read you loud and clear, Boss." Our lips met, seeking, venturing, and then engulfed each other, driving forward with equal force. My free hand went up into his hair, grasping it snugly between my gloved fingers. His tongue was everywhere, exploring with certainty. He drew away, licking around my mouth and then down my chin and neck. "Tomorrow's strictly business, like I said," he uttered, "so I've decided I'm gonna fuck you until it's tomorrow. How's that sound, Boss?"

"Depends on if you can back up your boast," I remarked.

"Well, we'll find out." He slid both his hands down, cupping my buttocks and clasping my pelvis against his forcefully. "Can you hold out that long or do I need to move slow?"

"If you move slow I'll kill you right now," I hissed. "Now get your ass in that bedroom. I WON'T do it on the fucking couch again."

"Got it."

He half-carried me into the bedroom, throwing me down on the mattress and then crawling over me. His lips and tongue drove into mine almost desperately. I tried to keep up with his pace, determined, even anxious. For the first time I was as eager for this as he was, perhaps even more so, although I had thought that was impossible with what a horny dog he was. I tasted the coarse flavor of tobacco and carcinogens, finding it no longer disgusted me, and then I was angry again. I was angry at our clothes for separating us, angry at my skin for not being bared, angry at him for not being inside me.

His hands, still gloved, roamed downward across my body, melding to every shape, causing ripples of stimulation to flow through me. I craved his foreplay and yet at the same time had no patience whatsoever for it. He reached my belt buckle and undid it, ripping the leather strap from the loops. The button of my fly came next, and then the cords that held the fabric together. He freed and fondled me without hesitation, stroking my length with his leather-clad fingers.

"How's this? What you had in mind?" he questioned.

"Just…shut up and keep busy!" I did my utmost not to cry out as my spine began to arc and my head curved back into the musty sheets. He caressed every inch of me there, hardening me pitilessly and still further. He returned to kiss me while his hand still worked at its goal, and I could barely reciprocate in-between my desperate gasps of air through my gritting teeth. I was rapidly losing control of myself, and he only made things worse when he suddenly retracted his hand. My whole body lit fire with agony at his lack of touch, but seconds later he gripped my knees and wrenched them enough apart so he could lower his head and lick against me there, dragging his tongue upwards and down with a terrible certainty. No use anymore! I screamed with a low, throaty growl in the sound, jamming my fingers into the mattress as if I could punch holes right through it.

Matt never let up, and only hastened my loss of rationality when he took the whole of me into his mouth and sucked. "Fuck!" I yelled, my head digging back into the bedding and my fingers darting out, drilling twice as fiercely into the mattress. His mouth was hot and sopping wet, and when he parted from me I was angered again, but he just bit the tip of his glove and yanked it off before he dragged a couple fingers across his salivating tongue and then promptly slid one into me. I bit into my bottom lip to hold in the noise, that sensible part of my brain still urging me to feel the shame, the humility, the degradation. I wanted to silence it!

"Go ahead and let it out," he urged, and then inserted a second finger. His free hand swam across me to resume fondling my achingly solid erection. He'd removed the glove on that hand also when I hadn't noticed, so now I could feel the naked heat of his sweaty hands on me and in me, the subtle roughness of the calluses on his palms and fingertips, the thickness of his knuckles… He was driving me out of whatever was left of my sanity. "C'mon, Mello…" he insisted huskily, his tone thickening as it tended to do when we were in bed. Was that just a normal inclination for men in bed? I wouldn't know. "Make noise," he encouraged, still pouring that strongly masculine tone across my ears. "Go ahead, at the top of your lungs. Scream my name."

"…Which…one…?" I scoffed through my bared teeth, and succeeded in spilling the drool I'd been attempting to keep in check. Damn it! I felt it drip over the edge of my lip and down, leaving a trail, but there was nothing I could do about it now.

"Whichever one you want," he replied, and then shoved a third finger through the tight ring of muscle, widening my flesh as well as my desire. In sequence, he circled the base of my horridly swollen organ and stroked it faster. "Whichever one you want to scream—whichever one that comes to mind first."

I tried to fight it, tried to refuse, tried to bite back, but what reason was there to do so? This was it, the end. This was possibly—probably—my last night on earth. So really, what the hell? To hell with all of it! You're dying anyway—dying as we speak! Every second is a second closer to hell! Just let it go! Just let it shatter!

"…Matt!" He smiled at me and then resumed sucking me off, still while he massaged his wet, sweltering fingers in and out of me. The ecstasy was doubled to new heights and I couldn't keep my teeth together. "Jesus, Matt!" How could he keep on getting better at this…? "Ahh—Goddamn you!" He didn't pause, only increased his pace and his force, drowning me in mindless drunken euphoria until I was drooling open-mouthed and shouting his name unabashedly, lacking any self-consideration or personal dignity, and completely unable to hear myself over the pounding of my blood in my temples. Finally the summit was climbed, throbbing at its highest. I lunged out and latched onto his shaggy hair with both my gloved fists. "Matt, it's…!"

He pulled away just as I came violently, jolting from head to toe with it and straining my spine in a vicious maneuver. I screamed and nearly yanked his hair out at the roots. I let him go as my voice died and then I fell lifelessly into immobility atop the sheet, sweating and panting. He took his fingers out of me and crawled over my body, crouching above me and looking down with a grin.

"So how was it?" he remarked, and wiped at his eyes. I glared up at him through the strain in my face, seeing a few droplets of my semen had managed to spatter across the orange lenses of his goggles. I reached up and gripped his hair again, bringing him down closer to me. He followed my lead smoothly, blind at the moment due to the heat of his face fogging his lenses. I slipped my thumbs underneath the straps of his soiled goggles and pulled them over his head, tossing them away. He was now free to regard me with that customary lazy gaze, lids sagging, brows relaxed, the dark bags underneath both eyes only emphasizing the absorbent green of them. Why did he always conceal his eyes from the world? Would I ever know? Could I ask him, or did he even know the answer himself? Shit, did I even care? "Hmm?" he hummed, lowering himself onto his elbows and stretching back his feet, tucking himself between my knees so we could lay chest-to-chest. "Like it so far, Boss?"

"I guess," I remarked.

"Maybe I need to try harder," he said.

"You'd better do more than try." He grinned and then kissed me deeply, trying to drink me down. I curled my fingertips against his scalp, giving back to his advances heedlessly. I could taste my salt on him. He began to hump against my groin with his own, swaying in a rushed rhythm. "Nnnn…!" I moaned inside his mouth, still latched onto his hair. My legs were getting sorer by the second and I had to struggle to keep my knees from crushing him.

He withdrew, trailing a thread of warm spit between us. He didn't bother catching his breath. "Trying…to tell me something?" he huffed. I licked my lips and glared at him, wondering why he wouldn't just get on with it. "C'mon, don't tell me you don't feel like ordering me around? When did hell freeze over?" He lapped at the scarred side of my neck, nibbling here and there, his heavy breathing only multiplying the level of sweat on my surface. "Just open your mouth and tell me what you want me to do, like always… Or do you want me to ask 'Mihael' instead?" He snickered sensually under his breath.

I twisted a handful of his locks in my fist and jerked his ear against my lips. "Not unless you want me to tell 'Mail' to fuck me already!" I hissed. "Fuck me now—as hard and as long as you can!"

"Yes, Sir," he replied with a chuckle. He moved up onto his knees and lifted my legs one at a time, removing both my boots for me. After that he started on my pants, yanking the waistband down past my hips, grumbling as he struggled with the tight leather. "I'm never gonna get the hang of this." I aided him by wriggling out of the fabric and he tossed them aside afterward. "Y'know it's not surprising you don't wear underwear," he mentioned, "but I just wanted to tell you I always thought it was hot." I frowned up at him as he leaned over me, gathering the crucifix of my rosary into his mouth using his tongue. He lifted the chain of beads off my chest and unzipped my leather vest all the way.

"You ruin everything when you talk too much," I sneered at him as I maneuvered out of the fabric, and then he tossed that away next. He shrugged and dropped my rosary back to my bare chest before he traced along the curvature of my pectorals with his strong fingers, brushing over my nipples, my stomach, my pelvis, raising chills in my body. I don't know why I always ended up naked first. He lowered his mouth to me again, rolling his tongue against mine. I ventured searchingly, charting the territory, letting my hands wander down his sides as I did. I extended both hands behind his back to tear off my gloves, throwing them carelessly before I grabbed a bundle of striped cloth in each hand and gathered it up in both fists. I let my hands wander underneath his shirt, taking down the tactile blueprint of his chest and shoulders. He stopped kissing me just long enough to rip his shirt all the way over his head, discarding it, and then picked up right where he left off. I took my time and smoothed my bare hands over the subtle contours of his frame, from shoulder blades to ass.

I knew he was a lazy, antisocial slob who never liked to go outside, but even so he was well-built, all his sinews formed of lean muscle, never fat or bone. He was slender, though not quite as much as me. Every fiber of me was pure muscle, despite how skinny I appeared to be, but you couldn't tell from a distance. I was used to being underestimated due to my appearance, and although it could prove to give me an advantage by utilizing the element of surprise, it scraped at my ego to be overlooked due to size. I had always proven myself with action, but Matt literally hardly needed to lift a finger for his accomplishments. His structure was genetic, just good luck in the breeding, and he constantly overlooked his personal upkeep. We were so different, even down to our flesh and blood, so how did things end up this way?

He pulled away and burrowed his eager mouth in my neck, making me clasp my hands in place against his back, my face nearly pressed to his bicep. I took my time in freshly observing his tattoos, which had more meaning than I had given him credit for. The inked chains intersected all down his upper arms, almost concealing the reddish freckles speckled on them. They were a light ginger color, almost vanishing into his pale skin tone, and he had more dusted across his hairless chest and shoulders.

He continued to suck and nip at the scarred half of my face, his pelvis commencing its previous motions against mine. I was becoming impatient, as his dry thrusting only agitated my arousal rather than sated it. I pushed him away by his chest and growled at him. "What did I tell you about moving slow?" I lunged my palm between his legs and grabbed hold for emphasis.

He flinched and answered with a groan. "…To not do it?" he said.

"Very good, boy," I responded. "It looks like I'm going to have to take control again if I ever want it to get done."

"Whatever you want, Boss…" He let me shove him away and flip him over onto his back. I knelt in front of him and pried his knees apart, craning over to unbuckle his belt and tear it free. I wrenched open the fly of his jeans, uncovering his boxer-shorts. They were grey with stripes and had red and green mushrooms on them. They were probably from some video game, but I didn't know, nor did I give a damn. He was chuckling so I glared up at him. "I like it when you're rough with me," was what he said.

"Yes, I know, you freak."

"I like it when you call me names too."

I sighed, briefly rubbing my brow. "You tempt me to believe in fate, you know that?"

"Huh, really?"

"How else could it turn out that I'm a sadist and you're a masochist?"

"Luck? Coincidence? Deal with the devil?"

"Something." I rolled my eyes and pulled his boxers down, exposing his thick hard-on. I took it in my hand, hearing him inhale with a light moan. I stroked him, listening as his breath quickened more each moment and watching as his hips rose to me readily and his fingers clenched against the sheet until his knuckles turned white. I'd touched him like this before, but I found that I was actually still slightly nervous to pursue the venture. I still had no idea what I was doing, no technique, no inkling. I didn't like not being perfectly proficient at something, and I wasn't used to dealing with that.

Could I satisfy him the way he did me? I wanted to. I wanted to make him squirm and scream the way he made me do, especially tonight. I was bound and determined to accomplish the same results, to not fail in his presence, but my stomach was knotting itself reminding me of my lack of experience. Fuck that. It was now or never. I lowered my head and ran my tongue over the heated organ, feeling his whole body tighten once I did. He groaned, and it encouraged me to lap and then suck, swallowing him as far as I could. I moved with as much skill as I could muster, at first forgetting about my hands and then using them to massage his groin while I sucked.

"Nnn…Mello…!" he groaned hoarsely. "Don't…stop…! Don't fucking…stop…!" I could excuse his thoughtless barking of orders in this situation. I continued, pulling his jeans and undergarment further out of my way so I could fondle the remainder of him, kneading the pliable tissue in my hand. "Oh, fuck!" he yelled, and threw his pelvis forward, raising his abdomen, spurring me. I kept on, dipping my head with my mouth engulfing him, his heat close to burning my tongue. His back bowed more and more as he groaned louder and louder, deeply and gruffly. "Mello…!" His cry was throaty and crude as he came, spilling the taste of hot bitterness into my mouth. I drew back, licking my lips and wiping at my chin, hardly realizing the wicked smile on my face. I still didn't like the taste, but I overlooked it for now. He slumped into a flaccid heap on the bedding, his chest pumping with his panting breath. "Whoa," he huffed, "I think you almost killed me, man…"

"It was good then?" I asked, crawling back over his torso to lean my hands on either side of his chest.

"…Saying that was JUST good is like saying Castlevania is JUST epic..."

I sighed irritably. "Don't you know by now that I have no idea what you're babbling about?"

He let out a huge breath. "…Dude, yeah, it was good. It was so fucking good I don't know how I survived it. Is that better?"

"Substantially." He managed to smile up at me. "What's that look for?" I demanded.

"I just like looking at you, man, that's all." I stared at him. "Still don't believe me?"

"Why would I? I'm not exactly your ideal type, not to mention…" I swiped my fingertips across the scarred side of my face, looking away, "…these repulsive…" He snickered in spite of my discomfort. "What's so funny?"

"C'mere," he said, reaching out. I frowned down at him, reluctant, but he insisted innocently. I spread my legs at either side of his hips and rested my weight on him, leaning down. My hair swathed around my face, the way I liked it now, but he immediately brushed it back. "You STILL don't think you're my type?"

I frowned harder at him like the buffoon he was. "I'm STILL a man. I know you'd rather have a woman."

His face faltered for a second. "Well, yeah, there's that…but everything else makes the list." He combed his fingers upward through my tresses, gripping them lightly in a fist. "Especially since you're a natural blonde," he cracked.

I shoved him by his chest. "You think this is so fucking hilarious, don't you?"

"Pretty much, yeah," he answered. "And I honestly don't think I could stand you if you were a woman. You'd be twice as loud and even more bitchy." I slapped him in the head, but he braced himself for the impact, snickering. "Besides…I already told you I like your scars," he went on, rubbing his fingertips over the ones on my face. "They really turn my crank, if you get my drift... Wasn't lying about that…or about the fact that you're the only person in the world I like being around longer than a few days."

"Yes, you've already told me you never lie to me, so that means you really are sick," I informed him. "A sick glutton for punishment."

He shrugged. "Well what about you, sitting up there on your high horse—heh, no pun intended?" I felt my remaining eyebrow tweak. "You still won't admit that you think I'm sexy."

"You're too cocky for your own good."

"In more ways than one."

I sighed and shoved his hand away from my face, chaffing my eyelids afterwards. "Can we just get on with this?" I grumbled.

"Can do, Boss," he said, and saluted me mockingly.

"Moron." I took him roughly in my hand again, making him grunt in shocked stimulation from the suddenness. "Getting soft already? I can't have that."

"You better teach me a lesson quick then, huh? I won't dare resist."

"You're damn right you won't." I positioned myself to take him in, hesitant for a full second again due to my inexperience. It was true I'd ridden him before, but it was still he who'd made the penetration every time.

"You sure you wanna…?" he asked, I guess noticing my uncertainty.

"Shut up and don't move!" I snapped, forcing myself out of my momentary doubt and going on. He just watched me, and with a little adjusting I was successful. It hurt to let him sink so deep, but I refused to back down and exerted my legs to move on top of him. I dug my fingernails into his jeans as I worked my lower body against his, and he let out low groans of approval as he lunged out to clasp his hands over my thighs, squeezing fiercely. I screamed through my teeth and continued laboring, letting the ecstasy pool within me again and rise continually, crashing through my nerves like a boiling tide.

I was concentrating, but he became increasingly louder as I strained to move with more speed, and I couldn't finish before he flipped us over in a rush and lifted one of my knees with his elbow. I shouted as he thrust forward, driving deeper, and slammed our chests together, mingling our sweat and coupled body-heat. "…Matt!" I yelled, lashing my arms around his shoulders. "I could've—handled it!"

"Couldn't hold back anymore," he exhaled, bucking his hips against me.

"Then…harder, damn you…! Harder…!"

"God, Mello…!" He dove into my neck, his breath thundering below my ear, and fucked me ruthlessly, throwing his whole body into the heaves. His thick, masculine groans intensified until I was digging my fingernails straight into his flesh and we were both spent in a blinding wave of purely brutal bliss.

We both collapsed into a collected heap, our chests throttling each other with our exhausted gasps for air. Our sweat coated us hotly, and as we slowly cooled in the aftermath, I noticed the slick heat of blood gushing against my hands. I'd torn gashes in his back with my fingernails, not realizing I'd done so, and now the scent of copper added to the scorching aroma encasing us. He slowly unhinged his grasp from my thigh and arm, letting every extremity go limp on top of me.

"Mm… Ow…" he murmured into my hair. "Am I bleeding…?"

"I broke skin."

"Eh, no problem." He struggled up onto his elbows so that he could smile down at me. I brought my bloody hand around to look at it, but he snagged my wrist and lifted it to his mouth. He licked the blood from my fingers, still breathing unevenly. He suckled sluggishly, obviously in no hurry as he cupped the back of my hand almost delicately. His mouth was still so hot.

I just watched him for a while, licking one or two of my own fingers. I'd never felt this way before… I was nearly comfortable—at ease. No other human being could inspire my roiling fury to recede genuinely. No other human being had been able to dig their way this deep through my defenses. And I had completely allowed it to happen. We'd come so far, so quickly. When I first saw him again after Wammy's House, things had been frigid, awkward, and distant—exactly the way I'd preferred. And he hadn't made any great effort to change things. But after the night I blew the base and disfigured myself…everything altered permanently. That night was the rupture that brought down every wall between us. I could see that now.

"Matt…" I finally whispered.

"Hmm…yeah?"

"Are you really…" I trailed off, not sure if I should say it.

"What's wrong?" He rubbed his thumb across my lips, wetting them with my own saliva. I looked at him, wiping a smudge of blood from the edge of his mouth. It was still under my nails, so I only succeeded in smearing some more of it across his chin. "You can tell me, Mello. You can tell me anything."

I exhaled, my breathing finally calming down to a tolerable rate. "Are you really…ready to die?"

He shrugged after a moment. "I think that's a trick question," he replied. "Nobody's ever READY to die. But, I am ready to take the final plunge. Who knows—dying might turn out to be fun." He chuckled. I wasn't amused. "C'mon, Mello, you aren't getting cold feet, are you?"

I shook my head. "This is my vendetta. There's no way I'm backing out after coming this far."

"That's what I thought."

"…But it doesn't mean you can't," I reminded him.

"C'mon, man, you don't need to start this up again. We're sticking to the plan and that's that."

"Damn it, Matt… If you would just do the least bit of resisting, then I could have an excuse to kick you out."

"I know, but I won't."

"…I know."

He smiled again and then bent down to kiss me. We made out for a while, readily but not relentlessly because both our lungs were still recovering.

He licked his lips once he drew away. "And you still taste like chocolate. I'm actually pretty surprised you didn't BLEED chocolate right outta your veins."

I growled at him. "Well even your blood tastes like a filthy ashtray."

"…The more your face wrinkles that way and the more your teeth clench, the more it just turns me right back on."

I sighed. "You're hopeless, Matt…"

"I guess so… But we both are, so it's okay."

He picked himself up and rolled over to lie beside me, flopping heavily and wiping the sweat from his brow. I reached over to grab my final bar of chocolate from the drawer of the nightstand, and he reached over to grab a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. I lounged back with my head propped on his chest and tore open the foil around the candy. He lit up the cancer-stick and blew a cloud of silver. He rested his hand behind his head and smoked, puffing lungful after lungful of the choking fog around us. I was about to take a bite of my chocolate, but on an impulse I reached over and snatched his cigarette out of his hand.

"Aw, c'mon, man…I need my fix after all that."

"Tough." I was about to toss the cig away, but at the last minute lowered it to my lips instead and inhaled, watching the ash burn before I exhaled a cloud of silver. I nearly coughed, but didn't allow myself to. I ran my tongue across my lips, tasting the smoky grit down to the back of my teeth.

"Hey, no fair," he said, but I ignored him and took another drag. I was surprised to find that calmness settled over my nerves with the intake of tar and chemicals. "Fine then," he remarked, and promptly snatched my bar of chocolate away. I glared back at him but he just snapped off a piece, the way I did, and chewed it. He chomped obnoxiously and then licked the edge of his mouth. "I dunno how you stay so skinny."

"Don't call me skinny," I warned, "and I don't know how you can go through two packs of these a day."

"Well, I've been smoking since I was like six, as often as I could, just to hold on to the feeling of safety my brother used to give… It only got worse once you and I became friends though. Maybe I needed some way to cope with your attitude." He chuckled, and I wasn't sure if he was joking or not. "Anyway, I haven't needed to sneak around since I left Wammy's, so I guess it got even worse… Good way to relax when I gotta deal with you though." He laughed and I smacked him in the chest.

I finished off the cigarette and then snuffed it on the wall and threw the butt. He chomped through most of my chocolate by that time so I snatched back what was left and finished it, knowing it was my last one—possibly forever. I sighed afterward, licking the last remnants of sweetness from my lips. The final sample of my nearly lifelong vice. Things really were coming to an end, weren't they?

"Again," I said.

"Huh?" he mumbled, scratching at his chest.

I turned over and grabbed him by the hair, swinging one leg around his hip. "Again," I repeated.

"Already?"

"I don't like repeating myself, you should know that by now. And what happened to fucking me until it's tomorrow? Last time I checked, it wasn't yet." I tugged at his belt loops. "Get these pants off, now. The denim chafes my ass."

"Whatever you say, Boss… Or should I switch to Babe?"

I grimaced. "Call me that again and you won't have a larynx to talk with. It's my turn to do the fucking anyway, so you'd better keep your mouth shut unless you're begging for mercy."

"No worries over that."

**January 26, 2010**

**12:18 a.m.**

We were lying beside each other under the sheet, our heads propped on the same pillow, just letting our lungs and muscles recover in the immediate aftermath. We'd been fooling around for hours, even though it really would be a good idea to get back to work. It was the 26th already, and I still needed to do last-minute run-throughs and try to get some sleep. There wasn't much chance of that right away as my brain continually distracted itself. Matt was smoking a fresh cigarette, and I watched him do so attentively, trying to sort through the myriad of screaming thoughts in my head.

"…Are you sure you don't want me to use your real name?" I asked after a while, realizing our earlier conversation was still eating at me.

"Why? Matt is what you're used to calling me, isn't it? Don't you want to stick with what you're accustomed to?"

"Yes…but that's not the point." It was true that "Matt" had risen first to my thoughts and lips, but that wasn't what mattered.

"What is the point then, huh?" he asked, seeming amused by the whole conversation.

"The point is: Matt is not your NAME. 'M-A-T-T' was simply a random designation you were slapped with by the Wammy's House officials. There was no thought or consideration behind it. You could have been given any ambiguous title, any nickname at all. Those adults could have cared less about slaughtering our identities. Don't you want me to acknowledge your REAL NAME?"

He shrugged. "I told you to use whatever name you wanted to use," he said, puffing on his cigarette and starting to twirl his other fingertips in the ends of my loose hair. "That's who you know me as, who I've always been to you. My life only really started when I knew you, and when I met you I was Matt. So, as far as I'm concerned, Matt IS my real name."

I sat up, leaning my arm on his chest to stare at him. I hated him for smiling while he told me these things. He could always say them so easily, yet it was a battle for me to show him even the most meager affection. Why did it have to be this way? He was the only one who could get me to fight against my very own nature. He was the only one who forced up these acidic emotions, this sense of self-resentment, of near-remorse, of first-ever-guilt. He was the only one who made me almost feel bad for being the way I was, for existing, for being born.

I chewed my bottom lip until I tasted blood, but suddenly he threw one arm around my neck, pulling me down the rest of the way so I could hide the doubt in my eyes by burying my face in his shoulder. I made my hand a fist in his hair, inhaling the fragrant scent of smoke soaking every inch of him. Was this my last chance to do so? I just stayed there in place, hugging him to me as if I were trying somehow to forsake myself.

He didn't move much at first, but slowly he tossed away his cigarette and then wrapped his arms beneath mine and around me, clutching us close together. "Hey, what's this about?" he asked, still devil-may-care in his every decibel. "It's not that big of a deal, y'know? I never liked hearing my name, the way people said it, or DIDN'T say it. When that man took my photograph and typed up my House records, he pointed to me and without a breath of feeling said: 'Listen, kid, from now on your name is Matt. That's what you tell people your name is, no matter who asks. You are never again to even whisper or write the name you came here with. It doesn't even exist anymore. Got it? Now, repeat it. M-A-T-T. Matt.' They deleted any records of identity we ever had—wiped them clean off the face of the earth. They erased any proof that we were ever born, that we ever existed. I was never supposed to hear that old name again, never supposed to be that person again. And I didn't fight that." He was slowly smoothing his hand over my hair repeatedly, something he'd never done before. I let him. "When I first met you…you asked my name and I told you it was Matt. You crossed your arms over your chest and told me that Matt was a stupid name, remember?"

I did. "Yes."

"So, after you stared me down for a while, I finally asked what your name was, and when you said it was Mello, I told you YOUR name was stupider. You punched me in the face and ran off. And that was how we met. Nice, huh?"

"Yes," I said, laughing slightly into his hair.

He laughed back. "…They were right, y'know… I really didn't exist, not once in my life. Not until that day. I had a bruise on my cheek for a week from you punching me, and every chance you got you hurt me or tormented me, but while I ignored you I just kept wondering…why you bothered. You could have focused your wrath on anyone, or everyone, but for that first week I arrived you only tortured me. Why?"

"I… I don't know," I answered, wishing he would stop dredging up these childhood memories. The sun always seemed to shine back then, but not anymore. The real world was dark and gritty and chaotic. The past would never come to life again. So why did its colors threaten to pierce right through me?

"It hit me when you snuck into my room and tried to steal my Gameboy," he continued. "I was the only person you could never get a rise out of, and that bothered you to the point where you couldn't overlook it. Before I showed up, you could dismiss anyone and push them away from your mind. But there I was, refusing to play your game. When you finally found a way to rile me up, and I finally responded to your bullying by hitting you back, you felt better instead of angrier. That's why you dragged me out to play the next day, and every day after. That's why we became friends, because I'm the only person who could deal with you, and vice versa. Nobody else could be next to you and stay sane, much less survive. Nobody else made sense together."

"I know," I barked. "It's always been that way. No other way makes sense. I know it, okay?" I gripped his hair and shoulder tighter in my hands. "You're the only human being I trust. You're my only friend, my only partner. Alright? Now just stop!"

"…What about you?" he asked through my hair. "Would you rather I call you Mihael now, while there's still time? I can, if you want."

"No," I snapped. "I'm the same. I never existed before we told each other our names. These names we have now…are the only names we've ever fit. I've always known you as Matt and to you I've always been Mello. I don't have any reason to want that different. No matter how thoughtless and stupid and unsuitable Mello is for me, it's the only name that's ever felt real. I'm not Mihael anymore, if I ever was."

"Heh," he snickered. "Right. And I've never felt like Mail, or ever missed the sound of it. Names are just words, anyway."

"Yeah, just words... I never thought they were worth a shit…until Kira came along, that is. Just a name and a glance and you're dead—and for the first time those letters tied together to spell Mihael Keehl defined me again. Out of nowhere, after SO many years, I heard them again—and without warning they gave me enough identity to die by. Why should it matter? You can know someone your whole life and never need to know their name."

"Like us," he said.

"Yes, like us. Names are just hollow sounds—they shouldn't determine who you are, or what your fate is."

"Names don't define anything," he conceded. "Names are just letters strung together to make a word. That's all they should ever be. We've lived our whole lives bearing false aliases, and it never changed who we are. Why should Kira have the power to control someone's whole life with just their stupid birth name? It doesn't make sense. It shouldn't work that way. Shinigami really are lousy fucking cheaters…"

It was then that the solution dawned on me, like light splitting the darkness of a fog in my brain. Everything split apart—tore itself wide open! The entire case, our lives, that past, the present, the future—all came smashing apart!

"Matt, you're a fucking genius!" I screamed, sitting up in a jolt.

"Huh?" he blurted, startled at my sudden move. "Since when?"

"Since right this second!" I shoved myself from his body, turning around as the wheels in my head cranked anew, freshly oiled and fully operational. The plan was already falling into place, overlapping my previous efforts and coming together as easily as anything ever could. Why hadn't I thought of it AGES ago?

"Dude, what are you talking about?" he asked, sitting up and staring at me as I got off the bed and stood, my head filling up with the perfect intricacies of my success. "Uh, have you lost it? You've never even come close to calling me a genius for real." I turned back to him, concentration creasing my face into a wicked smirk, showing my teeth and widening my left eye. "…You're freaking me the fuck out, man."

"Get your sweaty ass up and get dressed! We have a ton of work to do, and only a few hours left to do it in!"

"A ton of work? What work? I thought you had everything set up already…"

"Change of plan," I announced, and then grabbed up my clothes and left the room.


	27. Chapter 26

**+Part 26+**

**January 26, 2010**

**7:00 a.m.**

My alarm went off and I rolled myself out of bed, knowing the time had finally come—the time when all of this would end, one way or the other. I had decided so, and my resolve was just as strong as it had been the day I left Wammy's House for good over four years ago.

I dressed in my regular leather vest and pants and boots, adjusting my Rosary outside of my collar and sliding on both gloves. I ejected the clip in my favorite Beretta, checked the ammo, and then loaded it back. I took out a leather biking jumpsuit that would serve to cover me head to toe, and the new helmet I'd gotten that would conceal my face but still allow me to be clearly heard. It wasn't mirrored, but I was already sure it wouldn't matter. I set it all on the bed before I combed and smoothed my hair, and then went out into the living room. Matt was wide-awake in front of his computer screen, right where I'd left him.

"Is it finished yet?" I asked from behind the couch.

Matt glanced over his shoulder before he yawned. "Yup, finished checking it not too long ago, actually." He stretched both arms above his head and then popped his neck. "Been running nonstop since 12:30 last night… That was a shit-ton of data to go through, but I linked every hard drive we got to increase the speed of the download…and it's finally all done."

"You're sure we didn't miss anything? A single method? A loophole?"

"Nope. I'm 100% on this. We got through them all, and then I double-checked it myself." He yawned again. "Word for word… I think my brain is liquefied…but you're good to go."

"Good. Then it's time for the final act."

I returned to the bedroom and he followed me after a few seconds. He leaned against the footboard of the bed, only in his jeans, a cigarette burning away in his slack lips. He watched me slide the jumpsuit on over my clothes and zip it up after I stowed my gun and a set of handcuffs with a long chain in the inner pockets. "Handcuffs, huh?" he questioned.

"Yes, to keep Takada from trying to make a run for it."

"Seems like a good idea."

I walked around the bed, sliding another pair of regular steel handcuffs out of my back pocket, holding them there where he couldn't see. "Yes, it does." I lunged forth and kneed him in the stomach, making him spit up his cigarette and cough painfully. I then snatched his right wrist and jerked it behind him, twisting it painfully before I slung one cuff around it, snapping it shut tight, and then secured the other end to the thickest metal bar of the bed. By the time he recovered, clutching at his injury, I was sliding on my long biker gloves and picking up my helmet.

"What the hell was that for?" he complained, rubbing his belly and yanking at his restraints a little. "Testing these or something? You could've warned me, Mello."

"No, this isn't a test," I told him calmly.

"I got no problem with the kinky stuff, but we got no time if you want me to get ready…"

I was heading for the door. "No need. You're staying here until I'm done."

He blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He had his goggles on his head, which mussed his hair into wiry tendrils around his ears. "What are you talking about?"

"I decided last night that I really don't require you to complete the mission. Now that the computer program is finished, I don't need you anymore. You'll just get in the way, so I'm going to take care of it all myself. You can wait here."

"You can't be serious, Mello," he began, stepping towards me. He couldn't get more than a pace before his handcuffs rattled and he was forced to stumble backward, grunting in pain from the twisted position of his arm. He pulled at his shackles with more and more vigor, hurling his arm from side to side, and then shoving at the bedpost. "Damn it! I don't fucking believe this, man!"

"It's no use," I said. "You shouldn't waste your energy, you're going to need it. I don't know how long it'll take to get what I need out of Takada, so you might be sitting there for a couple days without food." I tossed a bottle of water on the foot of the bed. "Better make that last."

"What the fuck, Mello?" he yelled as I strolled past him. He reached out but couldn't get to me. "Shit! I thought we were gonna do this together! I thought I was your partner—isn't that what you said? I'm a part of this too, remember?"

"Not anymore. Now stop yelling or someone will call the police, and you don't want them walking in here to find you like that." I walked towards the door and he thrashed at his handcuffs in vain.

"Mello, WAIT!" I glanced over my shoulder. "…What are you gonna do? Something changed, didn't it? That program you had me invent… You altered the plan, didn't you? That's why you won't let me come! What are you gonna do, damn it? Are you gonna…?"

I turned away again, for what I knew was most likely the last time. I would probably never again lay eyes on his pale, slightly freckled, rarely emotional face. His lethargic green eyes were already vanishing from my memory. As I'd decided last night, things were better this way. If I was to keep my resolve as solid and immoveable as it has always been, then I couldn't have him at my side anymore. It was better for him to live and me to die. He deserved it more than I did. Just because I'd always treated him like my dog…it didn't mean he had to die like one.

This would be my final—and only—gift to him.

"Mello…" he whispered. "Jesus, don't…"

"Goodbye, Matt." I left, shutting the door behind me.

**January 26, 2010**

**7:45 a.m.**

I was waiting at the corner alley adjacent to the NHN building for the moment to make my move. Takada would be arriving on the hour. I was leaning against my bike in the shade of the alley, staring into the concrete void spread before me, repeating my resolve to stick to this decision.

This is it. This is my last opportunity to become Number One. I have no intentions of letting Near win. I have no intentions of letting Kira slip from my grasp again. By the time this day is done, Kira will be on the ground at my feet with my bullet in his brain, or else I'll be dead. No more stalling or second thoughts. No more waiting, no more questioning, no more dangling on the edge of what could maybe be a semi-ordinary life. No more friends or partners or would-be lovers. No time for remorse, and no room for affection. It's all or nothing, no exceptions. With all my loose ends out of the way, today is the day.

Today is mine.

I reached into the saddlebag of my bike and removed my secondary cell phone. Just as I lifted it to my face to check the time, my orange cell phone beeped from within my pants pocket. I blinked in surprise and unzipped my leather coveralls, digging to remove it. I hesitated at the improbability of it as it continued to beep, twice in a row, over and over every three seconds. Finally I flipped it open, gritting my teeth as I spoke angrily.

"What the hell do you think you're doing—calling me at a time like this?" I was sure he hadn't had his phone on him...

"I'm in position," Matt told me calmly over the line.

I paused in confusion, feeling an eyebrow tweak. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I demanded. "You're exactly where I left you."

"Nope, I'm in the Camaro, parked in the garage down the street from the NHN building." His voice was as lethargic as ever, muffled by the pursing of his lips as he smoked.

I felt my throat drop to my belly. "…What did you just goddamn say?"

"…That I'm in position?"

"You CAN'T be!"

"…Well I am."

I roared through my teeth. "I left you handcuffed to that bed for a reason, damn you!" I raged.

"I know. Told you I don't mind the kinky stuff, but not when I'm all by myself."

"How did you—"

"Dude, after you started talking all funny last night, I had a feeling you'd try something. I was kinda thinking you'd bash my head in and leave me unconscious and drooling on the floor…but I considered this too, so I slipped some lock-picking tools in my pants."

Damn it all, NOW he decides to start thinking ahead? "You're—just—fucking—IMPOSSIBLE!" I thundered.

"There's no use yelling at me now," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm here and I'm ready to get this done."

"You stupid fucking bastard…" I growled into the mouthpiece. My fists clenched so hard I thought I would crack my cell phone in half. "I don't need you for this! Go back to the apartment NOW!"

"Not a chance," he replied easily.

"That's a fucking ORDER, Matt!"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"DAMN YOU!"

"Just chill out. You won't be able to focus on the mission if you're screaming your head off. Today is strictly business, remember?"

I scoffed loudly into the line, fuming, nearly foaming at the mouth. I had to lean my head down into my chest so my vision wouldn't fog over in red. I was almost dizzy from it. Goddamn him! I wanted him out of this! I didn't need him for it! I didn't need him in my way—so willing to die for me! I'd just fortified my resolve to end this today, and now—! Something at the very edge cracked and started to crumble. No! Not now…!

"Matt…!"

"What's the matter? You aren't pregnant, are you?" I hissed angrily, having absolutely no patience for his wisecracking, not now, not with time running out. "Your silence says it all. I knew I should've used a condom, but I figured what the hell… You think the kid will look like you or me? Me, hopefully."

I scoffed again, forcing a fist into my eyes, my temples throbbing. "Can't you take a hint, Matt?" I hissed, urging myself to settle down my rage enough to speak clearly. "I don't need you for this mission anymore. I rethought it all out last night and your risk is unnecessary. It will take a little more effort, but I can accomplish it on my own. It's fine, alright?"

"Uh huh," he muttered, and I heard him blow smoke through the edge of his lips.

"Do you even hear what I'm saying, damn it?"

"Yeah, I can hear the bullshit just fine."

"It's not bullshit, you incorrigible fuck! Listen to me, and I'm not kidding! You already wiped all the hard drives and burned all the evidence back ta the apartment, so just go on and get the hell out of town! Fly in any direction as far as you can! Just leave this to me! Vanish, you're good at that!" When I finally stopped screaming my orders into the phone, I could hear the beeping and tapping of his handheld video game system through the line. "MATT!"

"Ow, what?"

"I'm serious about this," I stressed, trying to speak clearly and calmly. "More serious than I've ever been with you, Matt, alright?"

The tapping stopped and he blew another lungful of smoke. After that, he sighed. "I know, Mello. I know you are."

"Then obey my orders—if never again for the rest of your life, then at least this one last time!"

"…I can't," he said, his voice summoning the first shred of emotion besides sarcasm.

"The HELL you can't!" I roared, losing the momentary restraint I'd conjured.

"I've already made my decision, just like you," he told me. "I told you, this is the one order of yours I won't obey, because I know it's not what you really need. No matter how many times you tell me to get lost, it isn't happening, so you might as well let it go. I'm here, and that's where I'm staying."

"Fuck you!" I snapped. "Fuck you!"

"Been there, done that."

"Matt…! Why can't you just get bored with this like you do with everything else? Why can't you brush this off and forget about it like everything else? Why don't you ever take my word for it when it really matters? Why did you do this now, of all times?" He didn't answer. "WHAT can I say to make you just LEAVE?"

A long silence stretched between us, filled with nothing but the puffing of his cancerous breath and the marauding of my pulse in my head. "…There might be something," he mentioned at last.

"What is it?"

"…Forget it. It's not something you'd ever say."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I do, and that's just how it is. Those words aren't in you to say. They're not in me either. Even if you did say them after all, I wouldn't believe you anyway. So we're back to square one." He took a final drag and then I heard him turn the ignition and rev the engine to life. It roared with raw horsepower and then the muffler chugged steadily. "Anyway, you might wanna pay attention, it's almost 8:00. Let's do this."

"No! This isn't happening, damn you! Go away!" This wasn't supposed to be out of my control anymore! I had it all worked out! It was all going the way I wanted…! He was wrecking everything again!

"I see the bodyguards' black cars just passing me," he said, ignoring my protests. "I'm pulling out of the garage after them. I'll call you when I'm at the checkpoint later."

He just wasn't going to listen! He was bound and determined to go through with this! Why? Why was he so eager to throw his life away? Well I wasn't going to stand by and let him have his way! I wasn't going to let it go! I would NEVER let it go!

"Wait!" I yelled into the line.

"What? I gotta get going if you want your plan to work." I could hear the engine chugging in the background, and he had to raise his voice over the sound.

"You better stick to my original goddamn plan!" I announced, swinging my leg over the seat of my bike. "Don't deviate from it in any way, do you understand?" I zipped the front of my leather back up.

"Yeah, I got it, Mello. No sweat."

"You prepared everything for that, then? You did exactly what I originally said?"

"Yeah, it's all ready. I've got it covered."

"Watch yourself, damn it," I urged. "Don't get cocky, and don't be a fucking show-off! Be cautious, and be fucking smart for once!" I grabbed my helmet, checking the time, and saw the many black cars piling into the front parking lot of the NHN center. "Do you got that?"

"I got it, Boss…" I heard the crinkle of him opening a fresh pack of cigarettes. When he spoke again, it was through pursed lips, and I knew he was smoking a new one. "Well, in light of the dire circumstances…I've grown enough balls to call you Babe, just this once."

I felt my teeth grit against each other all over again. Was this the last time I would ever speak to him? It was very possible—in fact, likely. Did this call for anything, anything at all? Was there something I was supposed to say, to tell him? Here, at the end, was there a set of words I needed to say? My mind was a blank. For the first time since I could physically remember, my mind was a completely white fucking blank!

"Matt…!" I uttered, almost feebly.

"They're pulling up the drive. Sorry, gotta go. Call you later, Babe."

He hung up and I screamed at the buzzing dial tone before I snapped the cell phone shut and jammed it in my pocket. I slid my helmet on and moved the bike to the edge of the alley, now lying in wait for Matt to make his move so I could proceed. I started the engine and revved it a few times. The black cars parked in the drive and Takada stepped out of her vehicle with her entourage of bodyguards. Just as I predicted, Halle was right at her side, the closest guard. Takada began to walk towards the doors, waving to some of the cameramen and fans.

That's when I caught sight of the Camaro. It was just ambling towards my direction on the street, as if passing to get a look, and then I heard the screech of tires as he slammed on the gas and tore into the driveway. All the guards looked up in shock as Matt screeched towards them, barreling at high speed. Some of them panicked, backing away into their cars, but at the last second he jerked the wheel right and skidded by them, and I could see his striped arm hanging out the window, seemingly in slow motion. He shot off a round of smoke bombs, which exploded into thick clouds of grey, blanketing the entire front of the building and everyone standing there.

I gunned the motor and headed over quickly, that being my signal. Matt screeched his tires again as he peeled out of the drive and launched down the street towards me. I glanced at his window as he passed me, but he was concentrating on the road, as he should have been. Almost instantly, half the black cars tore after him, accelerating. I pulled up the drive from the other direction, having memorized the layout. Halle was cradling the smaller woman and trying to shield her from the smoke. She asked if she was okay, and then told the coughing woman to go inside the building right away.

I revved the engine a few feet from them, grabbing Halle's attention. "No, we've just been attacked," I announced in Japanese, posing as a bodyguard. "It's too dangerous for you to stay around or inside the NHN." They both looked over, pausing. "The best thing for the moment is to get away from this place. Please, get behind me, Takada-san." I saw Halle's face brighten in recognition, knowing she would cooperate with me, but she was taking too long. A few more precious seconds and one of the other bodyguards would notice. "Hurry!" I yelled.

"It's okay," she told Takada, ushering her towards my motorcycle, "please get on the motorbike and escape as fast as you can." She helped the smaller woman onto the seat behind me and she clutched at my waist. Halle and I exchanged a single, deep glance, which I blinked away. The moment Takada was settled I took off, glancing at Halle give orders over her cell phone before I turned away. I didn't yet gun it as the remainder of the black cars in front of NHN pulled up behind me, following to make sure I dropped off Takada somewhere safe. In my rear-view mirrors, I saw them giving orders on their earpieces, but I of course couldn't hear them. They continued to follow me closely, and I saw the alleyway I'd planned for coming up.

I revved the engine and sped off ahead, turning sharply and barely making it into the narrow alley. I heard them slam on their brakes and get out of their cars, yelling after me, but they wouldn't shoot with Takada on the bike. As soon as I was out of earshot, I slid the other end of the long handcuff I had attached to my wrist out of my coveralls. I clipped that end around her tiny wrist as it held onto me, and she jumped in shock.

"Y-You're…?" she exclaimed.

She shut her trap immediately after, but she'd already given herself away. She recognized me. So, Kira had described me and my methods to her, just as I thought. But, this woman was connected directly to Kira, so unless I did this…Kira would win. I couldn't let that happen. With her in my custody, Kira would be at a loss, and then Near could move forward, allowing me to do the same. The next step was a test—the vital, decisive moment. I drove a few blocks in the opposite direction of NHN, pulling into the alley behind the apartment. I'd set up the delivery truck there with the ramp already down in preparation for my arrival. I guided the bike up and into the truck, then I got off and retracted it, shutting the door behind us.

This is it—the test. Takada recognized me, so trying to hide my face anymore was pointless. If my plan was successful, her seeing my face wouldn't matter anyway. If I was wrong, then I was a failure, and I would die tonight. All or nothing. There is no in-between. Either I outsmarted Kira, or this brainlessly devoted woman would kill me with the notebook somehow. This is the biggest gamble I've ever made, but it's too late to turn back, and I have no intention of giving up. To win, I had to go for it now. This was the part that changed, the part I had neglected to tell Matt, the part he would never forgive me for.

The part where I deliberately threw my life away just to gain a crucial edge over Kira.

I reached up and slid off my helmet, freeing my uneven hair and revealing my scarred face. She stared at me in growing apprehension, clutching her handbag to her chest. She had pieces of the Death Note in there, maybe? No, Kira was too careful. She would have it on her, very close, in a place no one would normally be able to look or search.

"Take off everything you're wearing and put it in that box," I ordered in Japanese, indicating the cardboard box I had sitting out.

"You're…asking me to get naked…right here…?" Modest. More than I could say for Halle.

"That's right. You've got a tracer that'll alert the bodyguards to your whereabouts, don't you? They're going to come after me if I don't get rid of that. This delivery company has a shipping office close by, so I'll toss the box there."

She wasn't budging, so I unzipped my jumpsuit and pulled my Beretta out of my inner jacket. I pointed it at her as I grabbed one of the blankets from a pile of nearby boxes. "Hurry up," I said impatiently, brandishing my weapon. "Don't worry, I'll give you a blanket." Damn troublesome woman. She was taking too long!

"O-Okay..." She hesitated a little longer, still clutching her handbag. Maybe she was worried about the information in her cell phone? That could be important, but it wasn't my concern right this second. "I-I'll give you my bag, my cell phone and the stuff inside my pockets. I won't be able to contact anybody… S-So can I at least have the blanket around me when I take my underwear off…?"

Not a ludicrous request from a modest Japanese woman, but I could care less. I was about to refuse her, but then I quickly reconsidered. What better place to hide a piece of the notebook? I had to let her think I was complying, had to guide her into acting the way I wanted, so I tossed her the blanket saying, "Okay! Just hurry up!"

She turned away from me as she removed her jacket, boots, skirt, top, and panty hose. She then wrapped the blanket around herself as she slowly maneuvered out of her undergarments. I pretended to leave her alone as I peeled off my jumpsuit and tossed it over the bike. I then dug out the "Transport! Inc." logo uniform from my saddlebag and slipped it on over my regular clothes. I turned to her as she dropped her panties in the box and then bundled herself in the blanket and huddled in the corner. I ran a small bug detector over her a couple times and received no response.

"Okay, good." I sealed the box with her belongings in it with tape, then picked it up and slipped on the uniform hat. "You're going to have to stay in here for a while. And I don't want to hear a peep, got it?" I got down out of the truck and locked it behind me, then crawled into the front seat. I drove to the "Transport! Inc." shipping office and parked, keeping my head down and my face out of view as I dropped off the box in the back of one of the other delivery trucks. I then returned to the cab of my truck and drove off onto the street, sliding out of the uniform shirt and hat as I did.

I drove with the flow of traffic, heading towards the Nagano exit on the highway. When we'd been driving for several miles, I checked my orange cell phone, but Matt hadn't called me yet. It had already been about an hour… I thought he would've made it to the first checkpoint and called by now. Things must've gone awry with Takada's bodyguards… I waited, giving him more time as I drove. Another half hour and I couldn't wait. I switched on the dashboard television, feeling my stomach churn and twist in on itself. I turned to the local news and increased the volume.

I bared my teeth when I saw Matt's Camaro on the screen, riddled with bullet holes. No!

"…was apparently an anti-Kira terrorist, plotting to kill NHN's beloved Kiyomi Takada. After assaulting her and attempting to flee, he was chased down by Takada's gallant bodyguards and ordered to surrender. He did not comply, instead brandishing his weapon…and paid the price for defying Lord Kira. The man who was shot down has still not been identified…" the newscaster announced. They didn't show a body, but every inch of his pampered car was punctured with holes, and all the glass was shattered to millions of pieces.

Had he really…? But I'd instructed him thoroughly, and ensured he made all the preparations he would need in case things turned violent… They weren't supposed to…! He was supposed to avoid a confrontation entirely, the fool! Matt…I never thought you'd be killed…! I tightened my fists on the steering wheel and focused my weakening glare on the road ahead. I had told him he might die to try and force him away, to get him to leave, but I hadn't honestly considered it a likelihood. Forgive me…! This isn't happening, is it? After all that, he was dead…? I lowered my head.

If so…I may be following you soon, Matt...

I pretended to listen to the news as I glanced in the rear view mirror, spying Takada standing up in the back of the truck. Why was she standing while we were moving so fast? Was she planning to kill me now? No, surely she was smart enough to wait until I wasn't driving, or else she'd kill us both. Then again, perhaps she was that desperate to serve Kira? No, from what Halle had told me, this woman was very much in love with Light Yagami, and wanted to be with him, at his side. She wouldn't toss her life away at this critical stage, especially after facing down a stranger with a gun. I would just have to continue on, despite everything.

I have to do this. If I don't…

But what did it really matter, after all, if I'd gotten Matt killed? I was always willing to put my life on the line, and until recently, I'd been more than willing to sacrifice him as well. But now… If he was dead, then could I really call it a victory if my plan worked? Even if Near bowed his head and admitted defeat, and Kira fell to the floor and licked my boots, what was it worth, really, to be Number One without him? My only friend, my only…shred of humanity? My only constant, my only truth? Without him, was I even really living now? Could I really be thinking these things, when my ultimate triumph was so close at hand? Could I really be regretting it all, tasting bitterness, wishing for a way out? Did I want to choose something else?

…But isn't it too late now?

I drove through the countryside of Karuizawa. The trip took at least another couple hours, and it was nearly 2:00 p.m. by the time I pulled the truck into the crumbling ruins of the Christian church I'd planned to hide out in. I parked and shut off the engine. It was here I planned to hold her hostage, therefore interfering in Kira's and Near's plans and pulling all the information I could out of her. If everything worked the way I wanted, that is.

I turned off the news feed and checked my cell phone again, seeing no calls, but then I noticed a flutter of movement. Takada ducked down from the window swiftly, and I heard her fumbling briefly, then silence. I turned on the tiny screen beneath the mount of the steering wheel, which showed me the camera surveillance of the interior of the truck. It was black and white and grainy, but I could see her on the floor, focused over the contents of her hands…

A folded sheet of paper and a stub of pencil.

She was doing it. Right now. She was writing on a piece of paper. She was writing my name in the notebook! Mihael Keehl, those eleven meager letters all in a row, were meant to decide my fate. A useless name, given to me by someone I can't remember, and never once used since I was seven years old. Why did something so insignificant, something that didn't even come close to defining me, be capable of condemning me? 35 seconds after her hands stopped moving and now was the time. My heart pounded hard in my chest, and I couldn't tell if it was apprehension, fear, or the power of the Shinigami.

If I was wrong, if I had miscalculated, then I only had five seconds left at the most. Five seconds to live. I checked my phone again. No calls. I left it open on the dashboard to watch the time. Three seconds. I found myself short of breath, and cold sweat burst all over my body. I clutched the steering wheel tighter and tighter in my clammy hands. I trembled like a child. My heart beat so hard I was certain in the last moment that it was choking and failing inside my chest! A sudden—agonizing stab in my chest!

Matt…!

_When I opened my eyes, I saw sunlight dappled through the leaves of a tall tree. I blinked in confusion, realizing I was sprawled on my back with the crisp scent of grass blanketing me. I lifted my hand to my face to get my bearings, and discovered my complexion was smooth and soft—and unblemished. What? I sat up, touching it with both hands, but I found my scar was gone, as if it had never been there. What the hell is…? Then I noticed my hands. I stared down at them, finding the digits stubby and short, and my arms draped in plain black cotton sleeves. I turned my hands over, looking beyond, seeing my bare feet curling in the grass beneath my black jeans. I rubbed my eyes and saw that far across the yard was a brick building I recognized, surrounded by shouting, running, playing children of all ages. _

_ …Wammy's House._

_ I then heard the familiar rapid tapping and faint beeping off to my side, whirling in alarm._

_ Matt was sitting beside me, his back propped against the trunk of the tree and his knees gathered up to make a resting place for his Gameboy. He was wearing wrinkled jeans and a striped hooded t-shirt. He was barefoot like me, and of course he was wearing his goggles—only they were much bigger than usual. They eclipsed half of his entire face, and his red hair was messily short and unkempt above the lenses. His freckles were larger and more numerous, dusting his entire face and neck. _

_There was no way…but he was seven years old again._

_ "…Matt?" I breathed, and discovered my voice was high-pitched. I touched my throat, clearing it. "Matt?" My voice was still abnormally high._

_ "Mmm?" he hummed, not taking his goggled eyes off the tiny screen._

_ Impossible…! I scrambled forward on my hands and knees and grabbed him by the shoulders, jerking him towards me._

_ "Hey!" he barked, and his voice was high and underdeveloped just like mine. I stared at my reflection in his lenses, and my jaw slackened. My face was small and round, my cheeks full, and my hair was cut neatly and slightly curly at the ends. _

_ My God, I was seven years old again too!_

_ "What's your problem?" he demanded under his breath, still staring up at me. "I didn't even DO anything this time…" I sank back into the grass, letting him go. He lowered his Gameboy and stared at me through his big orange lenses. "What's up, Mel?" I put my hands against my head and shook it. Wasn't I…somewhere else just now? Wasn't I doing something important? Why can't I remember…? "Hey…are you okay? You haven't hit me for calling you Mel."_

_ "Matt…how long have I been here?"_

_ "Huh? Since afternoon break started… You always drag me out here…"_

_ "Where was I before?"_

_ "…At lunch…" _

_ I shook my head again. "It feels like I was somewhere else…far away."_

_ "Well, you were asleep," he remarked, and sank back against the tree, starting to play his game again. _

_ "So it was all a dream…?" I questioned, looking back at him._

_ "Guess so."_

_ "I've been here with you the whole time?"_

_ "Yep. Like every day…" His thumbs were just tapping away. _

_We were back to the way we'd been, inseparable, carefree, heedless of the past or future. I felt like things had always been this way… Like they were supposed to be. I never realized before…how at peace I felt here. Why not? I watched him play, his tongue poking through his lips and his toes curling around each other in the grass as he concentrated. Suddenly, I was so relieved to see him there, within arm's reach, so young and full of life. Why?_

_ I bolted forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him against me. He jolted in shock, dropping his Gameboy to the ground. "Uh…w-what're you doing, Mello?"_

_ "Shut up," I blurted. I cradled his small, scrawny, prepubescent body to mine, and I didn't ever want to let go. "Just shut up, Matt…" He slowly wrapped his arms back around me._

_ "It's okay, Mello…" Had he always said that? "It's gonna be okay…"_

I startled awake, finding I was sprawled across the steering wheel, my muscles aching as if I weighed a thousand pounds, my rosary swinging to and fro beneath me. Where had I been just now? Was that a dream…? I stared at the dashboard, my eyes wide and aching, and remembered everything. My heart was still throbbing painfully.

But it was throbbing. I wasn't dead.

Had Takada not written my name? I glanced back down at the screen with wide, wet eyes. My whole body was cold and tingling with needles of pain. My chest was cramped. She crumpled the piece of paper in her hand and staggered to her feet. She turned to look in the tiny window facing the cab and I went limp, freezing my face. She gasped out loud, and then burst into tears while laughing at the same time.

"I did it," she exhaled. "I did it! I did it, Light…! Oh, God…!" She sobbed and laughed and then sobbed, wiping at her face and sinking back down to the floor.

Jesus Christ, my plan had worked! A birth name didn't define a person at all! I'd beaten Kira's power by manipulating the very basis of its structure! My hypothesis was proven! By having Matt develop a program to change my name under every known system of government or religious doctrine, I'd escaped the lethal blow of the notebook! There was pain from the attempt, agony still coursing through me from the assault on my heart…but I survived having my name written in the Death Note!

That dream… Had I been dead? Had the Death Note partially succeeded, stopping my heart for a few seconds…only to release its hold since it had no power over me? My God… But I'm here, I'm back. I made it.

Takada took a few minutes to calm down, wiping her eyes and nose. She still clutched the piece of paper in her hand, but now she was looking around the truck for something. I watched her carefully, not moving a muscle, as she groped around in the saddlebag of my motorcycle. She picked up a large monkey wrench and then hurled it against the tiny window leading to the cab. It took her three tries, but she busted it, scraping off as much of the jagged glass as she could with it. After that, she peered into the cab, staring at me briefly, before she reached in. She strained, lifting onto her toes, and I saw now she was trying to get a hold of my cell phone.

She had to finally bite her lip and press forward, just scraping it with her fingertips. She stopped and scooted it closer with the wrench first, then reached in and grabbed it. She became too eager as she retracted and sliced her hand open on the glass, crying out with it. She sat back down and hurriedly typed in a number on my phone. She sniffled a little until someone picked up.

"Light, it's me…" she said. She paused a few moments, listening, and then said, "Th-There's a guard around, but I'm calling you in secret. I'm using the other cell phone I had hidden on me. L-Light, help me." An obvious lie, told to fool anyone else listening in on the other line. She paused again, and then said, "O-Okay…" She paused. "K-Kiyomi Takada. Born July 12th, 1985… I work as an announcer at NHN, and I'm on News 9 every day as Kira's spokesperson." She listened a while. "I do." She inhaled shakily. "Yes. And I did it just the way you told me… I succeeded…"

As I thought, Kira had instructed her exactly what to do in case of this situation. He'd probably described my face and any detail about me he'd found, and then had her memorize my name and hide a piece of the notebook in her undergarments. All exactly as I thought!

"I don't know where… I was locked inside a truck. And there's a motorbike inside it, too. Oh, I was able to see a road sign that said 'To Nagano' when we got on the highway. I'm inside a building right now… I'm locked in the back, but there's a small window and I can see that it's parked indoors." She sniffled, wiping her face, listening. "Yes. I was stripped naked, but I didn't resist, and I did exactly as you told me to do, with my survival as the priority. And I called you as soon as I got the chance." She wept quietly for a few seconds. "Yes. I'm going to stay put and make no false moves, like you said."

She gasped, beginning to shake all over again. "Oh! The guard's coming back, I have to hang up." She caught her breath and began typing in another number. "It's me," she said. "Send me as many names as you can of those who are to be brought to justice." She gave him her email address and hung up. She just sat there and sobbed for a few minutes, and began to type on the keys of the phone, I assumed accessing her email. She scribbled names messily on the piece of notebook after that, still crying and breathing hard.

I thought this would be a perfect time to slink out of the cab and take her by surprise. This time I would restrain her arms and legs, and then go ahead with my schemes. But just then…she stopped, throwing her head back and staring upwards, as if straight at the camera. Her eyes were wide and blank. Without another word, she stood up, letting the sheet drop from her nude body. I watched her in confusion, wondering what the hell had come over her. She approached the window and I slumped again, going still. She reached in the window again, not hesitating or straining at all as the glass cut her open this time. She strained herself all the way up to her shoulder, pushing in the cigarette lighter on the dashboard. What the hell? She went back into the truck and unlocked and unscrewed the gas cap on my motorcycle. She shoved it over, tipping it so the gasoline would pour out onto the floor beneath her feet, spreading. She returned to the window and grabbed the cigarette lighter. She lit fire to the scrap of Death Note in her hand and then turned back.

Jesus Christ! I kicked open the door and leapt out, running like hell. I leapt over rotting furniture and old debris, then I backed away from the ruins of the chapel once I got outside. I watched as flames began to burst from the cab of the truck, and then an explosion shook the vehicle as the motorcycle tank went off. Soon enough, the flames heated up the gas tank of the truck and it exploded too, shooting fire up into the ceiling where it quickly spread to the dried, decaying wood beams of the chapel roof. The fire devoured the entire building rapidly.

Of course—this had to be Kira's doing! Now that she'd served her purpose and killed me, as far as he knew, she was no longer useful for keeping alive. He'd manipulated her into this final act, using the Death Note to control her. Her suicidal actions were not hers, but his, written by his own hand. Which meant he and the rest of the Kira investigators must be on their way right now…! They would be here in hours, so I had to do something…! If they got here and found me missing…Kira would hunt me down… Should I wait and ambush him? No, there would be police and firefighters swarming all over this place, along with Takada's bodyguards and possibly the SPK… My original plan could no longer move forward… So what now?

There was an abrupt, piercing pain in my chest, so unexpected that I cried out and had to clutch against it. What is this…? Was the power of the Death Note still trying to work…? There were no rules about this written in it, I remember that, so I had found an unprecedented loophole, one that not even the Shinigami were aware of? Had I bent one of their laws just so it wouldn't break? I had found a way around the system of the Gods of Death, but even so, I could not underestimate their power. Would I be stuck this way…constantly suspended in the limbo between life and death, always a breath away from a heart attack? Was that my fate for defying the rules of the Death Note? The pain faded and I rubbed the spot, confounded, but willing to accept it. I survived, that was the important thing…

"Hey, what happened?" I heard someone shout. I whirled, seeing that a young man had happened by on his bicycle, and was now rushing over due to the commotion. "Are you okay?" In a split second, I had a brand new plan. I turned to the concerned boy, whipping my gun from the front of my pants where I'd stowed it after removing my jumpsuit, and pointed it at his head. "Wh-What are you doing? Wait!"

"Be quiet and put your hands up," I ordered impatiently.

"O-Okay! Just don't hurt me!"

He did so, and I immediately lunged forward and hit him in the side of the head with the butt of my gun. He was out cold on the ground, and I looked around, but didn't see another soul. It was just his misfortune, I supposed, and my luck, that he'd come out here to go joyriding today. I dragged his dead weight closer to the church and then stripped him down. I then dressed him quickly in my own clothes and put his on myself, transferring all the contents of my pockets. I heaved him over my shoulder and went around the side of the dilapidated and now blazing old church. I found a side doorway and pitched him inside with all my strength. He landed in the inferno with a flare of white heat. I tossed his bicycle inside from the other end. I looked back just once at the burning church, the cross upon its steeple all but lost in the conflagration.

This could work. The only thing they knew about me was my basic height and size. I had no remaining medical or dental records of any kind, and the fire inside was too hot and too intense to be put out quickly. That boy's body would be burnt to an unrecognizable cinder, even down to the bones, and the taskforce along with Kira and Near would assume it was me and be satisfied. I would disappear off the face of the earth, without a trace.

I did die today after all.

I ran off across the field and into the forest, putting as much distance between me and the church as possible. I ran and ran, never pausing, until I made it to the highway on the other side of the woods. I spied a couple houses outside the nearby tourist town, but nothing else. I took out my spare phone and called a taxi company, then waited impatiently for them to show up in front of one of the houses. I ran over and got in, keeping my face low and my sweatshirt hood up. I told the driver to drop me off at the corner near the apartment. I paid him with money from the boy's wallet and then ran inside, looking around briefly, but Matt hadn't come back here. I got on my other motorcycle and flipped open my phone to call Matt, listening to the dial tone ring and ring. It went to voicemail so I dialed again. The same.

Could it be that he really…was killed? Or maybe he'd been captured by Takada's bodyguards, as I originally feared, and so was unable to answer his phone? What could I do if that was the case? Could I find him? Could I save him?

I shook my head and put on my helmet, then took off out of the warehouse and back across town to the street where he'd been ambushed. I stayed a safe distance away and took a pair of small binoculars out of my saddlebag. The scene was taped off, and there were several police and firefighters lingering around the charred wreckage. There were hunks of the obliterated car strewn everywhere, for the span of almost a block. There were also scraps of what could only be human remains, blackened and unrecognizable as individuals, scattered about. I saw a few pistols too, tossed about among the car debris. Pieces of engine and bright red metal were piled in so many places they still weren't nearly done with the clean up.

So Matt had been able to blow up the car like I told him to! He was alive! The news must have made up the story about him being shot just to cover up the fact that he'd escaped! I felt a smile on my face, but it strangled quickly. Then why hadn't he contacted me? Couldn't he get away from them in all the commotion? I'd told him that if they cornered him, he should give up and go along with it. If he had a chance to shoot off the smoke screen again, he should take it, but if not, he should wait until he was a safe distance away and hit the detonator I'd given him, which would ignite the four pounds of C4 in the trunk and destroy the car giving him a chance to escape. The car was decimated, along with at least several of Takada's bodyguards, so where the fuck was Matt?

I drove on through the alleys, looping around the crime scene, impatient, ravenous. Had they captured him anyway? Was he a hostage this very moment? Or… I shook my head, not wanting to think of it, not wanting to believe…! But…had he blown himself up along with the car? Had he decided to take himself out so Kira couldn't use him…? I wouldn't put it past him, the cocky bastard! The incorrigible son of a bitch! If he had hit that detonator just to keep Kira from getting to ME…!

Just when I'd let off the throttle and staggered the bike against the side of a building, vowing never to forgive him, my pocket vibrated. I stopped and cut my engine, pulling off my helmet to answer it. "Matt?" I yelled. No answer. "Matt, are you there? Matt, why didn't you call me?"

"Mello…" he croaked, and his voice was horribly weak and rough, absolutely pitiful. "Tried… They took…my phone… Had to…get away…and…find one…" He stopped to cough harshly.

"Where are you?"

"Where…you told me…to be." He coughed again, violently.

"The first checkpoint?" He didn't answer. I was getting anxious. "Matt, answer me!"

"Yeah… I can't…walk any more than this…so…" He trailed off, inhaling suddenly sharply, and then coughing hard, cutting off his intake.

"Matt?" Silence. I couldn't even hear breathing anymore. "Matt?" I heard a faint clatter and then nothing. The line was dead. "SHIT!" I tossed my helmet away and stashed my phone, wrenching the key in the ignition and gunning the motor. I sped on to the rendezvous point in the alley behind the old convenience store across town, near the bad end. It was only seven blocks from the apartment. Goddamn it, I'd been so close and I had no idea! I turned the corner, looking around frantically, my mind smeared—unclear. I couldn't focus! I didn't see him in the first stretch of alley so I drove slowly onward, turning the next corner, and there he was!

I cut off the engine and swung out the kickstand, leaping off the seat. I walked swiftly towards him. "Matt…!" I said, relief pooling into my voice.

He was slumped against the wall, one hand dangling and the other barely propping him up. There was a fallen cell phone on the ground at his feet. His head was sunken into his chest, and his knees were shaking unsteadily. As I came closer, I could see that his jeans were darker than I remembered, and he must've changed into a red shirt. Stupidly, it took me another whole second to realize his clothes were soaked darkly with blood.

"Jesus Christ!" I blurted, horror clouding over me. I rushed over to him. "Matt!"

He looked up as much as he could manage as I approached, his mouth quivering. "Mello…" He fell forward just before I made it to him, and his fingers hooked my dangling rosary as he crashed hard to his knees, snapping the beads off the tiny chain and scattering them all across the blood-stained concrete. I dropped to my knees just as my crucifix hit the ground and darted my arms out to catch him as he slumped forward, coughing.

"Matt?" I struggled to turn him over onto his back so I could see the damage. There was too much blood to tell anything! All his clothes were sopping with it! His shirt had once been striped in white, but now…! "M-Matt, you have to keep calm, okay?" I snapped angrily, using the only voice I could to stay focused.

I had nothing but the dingy light from the streetlamps to go by, but it would have to do. His vest was surprisingly the cleanest, so I snapped all the fasteners right off and spread it open, seeing that he wore a bulletproof vest underneath it. God Almighty, there were DOZENS of lead slugs embedded in the Kevlar material shrouding his chest and abdomen!

"God," I couldn't help but utter.

Where had he gotten this Kevlar? And when? Shit, it didn't matter now, because the rest of his body had been completely unprotected. Bullet holes riddled both his arms, there were a couple on his thighs, and a single bullet had grazed his neck. Another had grazed his head, which had cracked the left lens of his goggles and slicked that side of his face with blood. God, how many men had shot him down, and in cold blood, right out in the street? I counted at least two-dozen holes, not even counting the numerous slugs embedded in his Kevlar. That had to be the full clips of at least five or six men… My God, they were animals. Maniacs.

I KNEW this would happen! I knew it was possible, that Kira's worshippers were degrading further and further into anarchy, into total fanaticism! Why had I ever deluded myself into thinking they would be lenient and take him hostage? That's why I told him to stay behind! Why did he have to disobey me? I should have just knocked him out and strapped him facedown to the bed so he couldn't move a muscle! Damn him!

"Fuck!" I hissed.

"M—ello…" he grunted.

"Shut up, okay? Don't talk!" I took off his destroyed goggles, impulsively jamming them in my pocket and freeing his fluttering eyes. The bullet had grazed his left temple, and the blood had collected around the silver frame, making it puddle and cake in his hair. "Oh God," I muttered like a fool.

"Mel—!" His voice was interrupted by a gurgling as he coughed and blood dribbled from his mouth, almost frothing.

"Matt? What is…" He hadn't been struck anywhere vital, so why was he bleeding at the mouth? His face wrinkled with pain and I bared my teeth. He had blood in his lungs! No wonder he was struggling to breathe and speak! I tried to lift him, to clear his airway, but he just looked up at me oddly, as if he'd never seen me before. As if we were back at Wammy's and it was the first day we met. His lethargic eyes were wary, wondering, yet bright.

That dream… That fleeting, sunlit place… I knew now that my heart had stopped, and just for a moment, I'd truly been at peace—whether heaven or hell or somewhere else entirely, I would never know. Whoever decided I deserved peace after death didn't matter now.

"Matt…"

"Hey," he choked, with lips pasted in blood. "Your eyes…are blue..." He coughed again, his chest heaving up and down as he fought to gain oxygen. "Never could tell—before…" He sucked briefly for air before his eyes rolled back in his head and he choked and rasped. Suddenly, his body dropped like a heavy weight in my arms. He went completely still then, his head falling to one side, against my scarred arm.

"Matt?" I shook him once. "Matt!" He didn't respond, didn't move, didn't try to breathe. His eyes were shut, almost gently, which infuriated me. I slapped him a few times, impatiently, but he was motionless. I set him down flat and hurriedly felt for his pulse. He had one. He just wasn't breathing anymore. His face was slackening, getting paler beyond the smears of blood. He was suffocating right in front of me. "No, you bastard, no!"

I took out my knife and began to cut open the straps of his Kevlar vest, tearing it off him, and then I yanked up his striped shirt. I had no time to stare at the dozens of huge, horrible purple and green bruises covering his torso. The Kevlar had stopped the bullets, but their repeated impact had still battered his flesh, wounding his lungs. I put my fist flat to his bare chest, just below his sternum, and then laid my other hand on top of it. I pushed down hard five times in a row.

"You don't get to die on me here, goddamn it!" I was screaming. "Not after all this bullshit! Not after you fucking disobeyed me and broke free just to get your ass here! Stupid fucking idiot! You were always an idiot! I can't believe you even made it to Number Three! Un-fucking-believable!" I then pinched his nostrils shut and blew air into his mouth. I repeated the process several times, pushing harder and breathing more air each time, but it didn't seem to be working. "Oh God," I stammered. "God, don't…!" I blew another lungful of air into his mouth again and this time he inhaled sharply, causing me to jerk away. His saving breath was immediately followed by him hacking up cups of blood. "Matt!" I lifted him and turned his body so he could face downward, getting all the blood out with shaking full-body heaves.

After retching up blood for almost a solid minute, he could breathe again, so I set him back down, holding him upright in both my arms. "Mello?" he mumbled.

"Matt!" I felt the lancing pain in my chest again, grunting and clutching at it. Agony flooded through my rib cage for a few seconds, and then faded. Was this a permanent side effect? If I ever changed my name back for any reason, would I just drop dead instantly, having already completed my 40 seconds…? Dear God…what had I discovered?

"…Hey," he muttered weakly.

I looked back at his face. "Can you breathe freely?" I demanded.

"Uh…yeah, I guess."

"How does it feel?" I insisted.

"Feels…clogged," he told me. "Tastes like blood…"

I exhaled in the sweetest relief, reaching up to wipe away the sweat I'd apparently been leaking in buckets. "Mother of God… You stupid bastard… I was…" He blinked up at me, his left eye sticking a little due to the blood dried there. "Tell me what hurts the most," I said.

"Uh…everything, I think… Well, my nose is okay, I guess…"

I shook my head, chuckling briefly, disbelieving. "You walked this far, so your legs can't be broken… What about your arms?"

"Left one… I had it forward, holding the…gun… When I got away…couldn't use it…" I looked down at his left arm, which definitely had more bullet holes than the right one. I reached out and touched it carefully at the bicep, squeezing a little. He cried out in pain, baring bloody teeth.

I frowned. His arm was broken, but I had no idea how bad it was. "I have to get you out of here so I can take care of those wounds," I said, trying to keep both of us calm. "I have to find a place to take you… A safe place…" But where? Nowhere was a safe place in a world ruled by Kira. I'd given up the plan. I'd abandoned my objective. And now I'd lost. I had nowhere left to go. I had nothing. I shook my head. No, right this second, none of that mattered. Not at all. After everything I'd vowed, everything I'd fought for, everything I'd sacrificed…none of it mattered at all.

I looked around frantically. "I'll be right back," I said, and then set him down and ran off through the alleyway, finding a low balcony where someone had hung their laundry out to dry in the afternoon sun. I took a running jump and caught the railing, pulling myself up with my arms and snatching as much of the clothing as I could. I then ran back to him and knelt, looking through it. I had two pillowcases and a towel that would do well for now. I cut through his shirtsleeves with my knife, uncovering the wounds on his arms. "All I can do now is wrap them," I said. "I can't remove any bullets here or you might bleed even worse…"

I dressed all the bullet wounds on his arms and legs with strips of the cotton cloth, crudely but effectively stanching the bleeding for the most part. The wounds on his neck and head came next, since they were smaller. I also made him a temporary sling for his left arm. It wouldn't last for a permanent solution though, not by any means. His arm would need to be splinted and set in a cast, and if any of his wounds were near arteries, I would need to give him stitches or cauterize them. I gripped my hair in my bloody hand, shaking my head, trying to think. Why was my mind so inefficient right now of all times, damn it? The chest pain returned, stabbing, and then faded. Shit. At least it seemed to only happen under extreme duress…or maybe on a time cycle…? I would just have to cope, since I'd decided I would live.

"Hey," he said, and I bent down to listen. "You okay?" he asked.

I scoffed loudly. "Me?" I barked. "Don't I look okay? What about YOU?"

"Yeah…" he said. "Those Japanese…surrounded me. I pretended to surrender so I could shoot off another smoke screen…but the minute I set foot outside the car, they shot at me… All of them…fucking…emptied their clips…"

"I know, but that's not important now. You need to stop talking."

"…I made like I was dead, and they came over to drag me off…" he continued, in spite of me. "They took the stuff out of my pockets…but I'd…stashed the detonator down the back of…my pants… They left me on the sidewalk and went to search the car…so I hit the switch…and it blew them all away… I got tossed against one of their cars… It was all so fast…it didn't even hurt…at first…"

"Matt… It's okay. You did well…" I tried to say.

"But I…changed your plan a little…" he murmured.

"You what?" I asked, still holding his upper body off the ground. He'd been bleeding this whole time, slowly but steadily. It had been hours, but he'd walked all the way here just to stick to my orders, somehow staying conscious, somehow maintaining enough strength to find another cell phone to call me with. I had to get him out of here, so why couldn't I move?

"I…killed someone," he told me, hoarsely.

"I know, Matt, but you had to…! They tried to gun you down in the street, for God's sake!"

"No, not those bastards… I killed someone before that…"

"What are you talking about?"

"It was…just some guy I met…on the way to the NHN building. I killed him…and put him in the trunk... He was right on top of all that C4…and got blown to hell with the car… Got the…bulletproof vest from your…weapon cartel… Had them ship it…and I picked it up without telling you…just in case… The news choppers…all they saw was the explosion…and I stayed out of sight… I saw it on the big screens…so now…"

"You mean you…"

"That…was the first person I ever killed…" He chuckled once, gruffly. "And it was myself. How about that?"

I stared down at him, my eyes wide and disbelieving. We'd both come across the same idea, on the same day, without ever consulting each other. We'd both come around to the same conclusion, both made the same choice at the last possible second.

We'd both chosen to die, so that we might live.

"Matt…" I murmured.

"You'll be mad…but I wasn't thinking ahead, really… All I thought was that you were gonna do something crazy…and if you died…I wanted to go to hell with you. So I killed the guy…when I saw him walk past the car… I just went over and killed him…in cold blood… Bashed him over the head…"

"You idiot…" I breathed.

"Yeah, guess I am." He chuckled weakly. "So what happened…with that news chick…?"

"…She wrote my real name on a piece of the Death Note she had hidden on her, just like I thought she would, but it didn't kill me. My idea worked, but then Kira took control of her and she burned down the chapel... I killed some passing kid and tossed his body in the fire… They'll find what's left of him and think it's me. Near will think we're both dead, and I've proven that names are just words after all, exactly like you said."

He smiled, his teeth almost chattering from his trembling form. "Yeah."

I managed to smile back. "Can you stand with my help? We have to get to the bike and get out of here…"

"Sure," he said.

With a great deal of effort, and spasms of pain, I helped him to his feet. I wrapped his good arm around my shoulder, and aided him as he shuffled to the bike. I set him down while I gathered up his torn scraps of bloody clothing and jammed them in the bottom of the nearest dumpster. I went back over and he managed to get on the backseat, and I got on in front of him. He leaned heavily against my body, his right arm barely wrapping my waist. I could smell blood all over him. I had to get the bleeding stopped as soon as possible. That was my top priority. After that, we would have to disappear for good. After all, we were both dead, and as long as Near and Kira kept thinking that, we were safe.

Now Near would go ahead with his plans, capture Kira, and take all the credit. He would live on as the new L, Kira would be executed, and the rest of the world would never know any of this. L would be avenged in the end, and my revenge would be served, even if it wasn't by my own two hands.

I suppose…I could live with that. As long as I lived.

"So…what happens now?" I heard him ask as I started the bike and drove off cautiously.

"Nothing," I replied. "We don't exist."

"…So it's over?"

"That's right. Now Near will catch Kira, become L, and remain Number One. He'll hardly even notice we're gone. It's all over."

"We're alive," he mentioned. "More or less. That's what counts, Mello."

"Yes, we're alive. In the end, I chose to save my own skin instead of taking down Kira. I chose to run away. I'm left with no rewards, no consolation. I chose myself instead. It means I lost."

"Nope." Matt lifted his one good hand slowly from my waist to my chest, pressing there against the left side, above my still-beating heart. "It means you're free, Mello," he said close to my ear. "We both are, finally. We're freer dead than we ever were alive. We can forget it all … No L, no Kira, no names, no world… Just us."

I listened to his words. I looked ahead at the road as we drove off into the city night, leaving it all behind: Kira, Near, L, and even our lives as we'd always known them… We'd both turned back from the abyss in the last moment, choosing life instead of victory, ourselves instead of L. Somehow, though, I knew that wherever he was…he wouldn't mind. The road ahead was unknown, and never-ending. I had never before looked down a path and been unsure, and the apprehension was aching, but somehow I found it…exciting as well.

"Matt?" I said.

"Yeah, Boss?" he asked.

"What do you think about going back to America…and restarting our lives from the beginning…as if none of this ever happened?" Like a moment's dying dream brought to life.

I heard him chuckle briefly, softly. "Sounds epic."

+END+

January 26, 2010

7:07 p.m.


	28. Epilogue

**+Epilogue+**

**April 27, 2010**

**9:55 p.m.**

Matt here. If someone had told me beforehand that bullet wounds and broken bones took THIS long to heal, I might've stayed handcuffed to that bed…

It's been almost three months since the adventure, three of the longest, most boring months I never wanted to imagine. Getting my arms shot up in thirteen places really wasn't a great idea, now that I think about it. I mean, it's not a great idea anyway, but it turned out I shattered both major bones in my left arm, so I'd had it in a cast ever since we'd escaped. Having shattered bones in your arm isn't fun on regular terms, but for three straight months now I hadn't been able to use my left hand at all…which tragically meant I'd had to endure without playing a single, solitary, fucking video game. Zero. Zilch. None.

I am losing my mind.

Of course, trying to explain this to Mello gets me no sympathy, just a lot of insults and head shaking. At least he hasn't been yelling at me nearly as much as he did when I was at my n00b-pwning best. So at least he's been in a semi-not-psychotic mood since I was injured, but I'm bordering on full-blown drooling lunatic. I've had to settle for playing the games on my new cell phone, since they only required the use of one thumb. I also had wicked scars on my temple and on my neck from getting grazed with bullets there. It goes without saying that I couldn't walk too great either, as I'd taken about three or four bullets to each leg. No broken bones there, at least, but a shit-load of pain and almost constant cramps made up for that. Even if I wanted to get up and try walking, Mello had pretty much told me I wasn't ALLOWED to. I'd been in bed almost exclusively, which wouldn't have been a bad thing if it were in a different context.

I get no sympathy from Mello on that end either. Shocking, right?

Currently today, I'm still as previously mentioned: bedridden, bored, and going insane… Oh, and don't forget horny. The one bit of good news: I never have to get dressed past my underwear or leave the house…but I could stay locked up in the dark half-naked anytime. I'd rather not have all the layers of bandages, broken bones, antibiotics, and atrophied muscles to go with it. At least it isn't as bad as the first two weeks, when I'd been constantly doped up, delirious, and getting pumped full of stolen blood. I'd lost almost half of mine so since we left Tokyo I'd pretty much been half-conscious or less for weeks, just trying to get my strength back. I still had scars in the bends of my elbows from all the IVs.

I sighed out a cloud of smoke, staring out into the condo we'd taken up residence in just outside the city limits in Chicago. We'd snuck out of Japan in Donne Sever's private jet, posing as cargo with me high on morphine and strapped to a gurney soaking up blood from baggies. We were trying to get as far away as we could as fast as we could. The building had been built over 20 years ago, so it wasn't popular real estate. Perfect for us. We had the whole seventh floor home to ourselves, and even though there were two master bedrooms on each end, Mello had set up a bed for me in the living room near the kitchen and second bathroom, so my wounds and needs would be easier to tend to.

Thoughtful, except that with me as an invalid he'd taken over the decorating himself, so I was sharing the living room with three hulking black-lacquered bookshelves piled with morbid novels, Classic literature, Bibles in several languages, research materials, poetry, notepads, and files…haphazardly bookended with various styles of skulls—some ceramic, some glass, some pewter. The corner behind me had been turned into an eerie Catholic shrine for a statue of the Virgin Mary, whom he'd surrounded with red and black tapered candles in gaudy, jagged holders. There were wrought-iron sconces for more candles on the walls, and crucifixes of all shapes, colors, sizes, and styles nailed all over the place. The living room furniture was red and black zebra patterned with red velvet accents to match the heavy drapes over every window. The walls were painted alternating black, red, and gold. There was also a nifty replica of an iron maiden in the far corner—at least, I kinda hoped it was a replica.

Of course, he had his favored style of armchair made of polished black leather off to one side by the marble fireplace, the mantle of which held more Catholic icons, pewter figurines, and a coffin-shaped incense burner. The rest of the furniture was fancy, Gothic, and antique done in dark wood or lacquer, and the flooring was a checkerboard pattern. Any empty space was arranged with candles, incense burners, ornate crosses, or idyllic statues of saints. Many of the walls had Classical religious paintings in thick, elaborate frames.

There was an especially graphic version of the "Pieta" hung directly above my bed in a rosewood frame that had strips of ragged black velvet hanging over it. Mary was cradling Jesus' bloody body on the ground after the cross had been taken down. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to mean something to me or not, but he would never tell me if I asked anyway. It had been enough hell trying to convince him to hang some of my stuff, but we finally compromised when he said he could hang the wall scrolls because they looked classy enough.

I sighed again. We'd been living together in our new place all this time, but so far all I'd been able to do was lie in bed and recover, play Tetris, maybe Pac man, or God forbid Bejeweled, smoke, watch satellite pay-per-view or late-night porn...

It was boring, sure…but all things considered, Mello had taken a much bigger risk. He'd intentionally had his name written on a page of the Death Note just to test his theory, a theory I'd inadvertently given him by commenting on how useless names were to a person. So essentially it was my fault, which made me feel REALLY great. But without telling him, I'd run my own name through the program also, so now we'd both changed our birth names legally, but it hardly mattered. We still called each other by the same old preferences we'd been dubbed with at Wammy's. Of course, in order to own this place we needed aliases, so officially I was Liam Isaac, and he was Michael Cain (both of which were his idea). I had vowed never to tell him my new real name, just as he swore to me he'd never tell me his.

Not long after we'd left Tokyo—and our lives—behind, it was announced that Kira was relinquishing his powers and leaving the fate of mankind in the hands of man itself. Immediately after, the mass killings of criminals by heart attacks ceased entirely, and gradually, things had been returning to their normal, chaotic, decaying state of rolling consistently downhill. Sure was ironic, but at least we didn't have to worry about being spotted and slaughtered by someone with Shinigami fucking Eyes anymore.

Of course there was still a lingering Shinigami-type problem, since every so often Mello would get these random chest pains. When I'd finally worked up the guts to ask him about it, he'd told me his theory. He deduced that the power of the Death Note was so strong it consistently attempted to finish the job it started back in Tokyo that night, but it just couldn't because that was against its fundamental rules. It never gave up though, and apparently he'd have a heart condition for the rest of his life because of it, one that no amount of pills or surgeries would affect. If he ever changed his name back, he was sure he'd drop dead. Good thing he wasn't planning on that anytime soon.

One thing we knew for sure: Near had defeated Kira in the end…and he couldn't have done it without our help. That seemed to be adequate enough consolation for Mello, and he'd assured me it was and there was no need to speak of it again.

But still I wondered…which really wasn't good for my health. I mean, he'd only spent just about every waking moment of his life that he could remember battling to be better than Near, but in the end, at the last minute, he'd decided to fake his own death instead so he would be free of everything. I'd done the same, but I hadn't been looking that far ahead… My only thought when those crazy Kira-humping bastards started firing was that I had to find a way out of it so I could make it to the checkpoint and call Mello. Beating some guy on the street over the head and stuffing him in the trunk hadn't been the plan, but I figured if I got caught I could blow the car and fake my way out of it. The getting shot to hell part, I was only partially prepared for. I figured being extra careful and wearing a bulletproof vest would be enough, but I was wrong. Too late now.

I hadn't even been able to set up my bedroom yet, so all my stuff was just piled in boxes in the empty space. I knew Mello's bedroom was ten times as Gothy and creepy and Catholic as the rest of the house though. I suppose, after all, that looking around and seeing all this eerie, dark religious crap made me kinda happy, because it meant Mello intended to stay here for a while. Back during the whole Kira episode, he hadn't bothered personalizing the places we stayed because he knew they were all temporary and might have to be abandoned at the drop of a hat. He'd gotten onto me enough about needing to take all my game systems everywhere. He seemed to be at ease here, as much as THAT was possible.

I have to admit, ever since we'd left Tokyo, Mello had been crazy docile with me. He was still pitiless and mean-spirited and condescending, duh, but at the same time, whenever he tended to my wounds, he was really calm and quiet and (it's weird to say), but he was kinda gentle. If I made any wisecracks, he would usually slap one of my injuries just to teach me a lesson, but otherwise, he was actually very attentive of my needs. Well, all except the one I really, REALLY wanted him to pay attention to…

Lately, he'd been spending a lot of time gone away doing Mafia business. Ever since Kira had vanished, criminal activities had been steadily rising again, and he'd gotten a few calls from random contacts asking him to return as Boss of his old gang. He conducted operations long-distance most of the time, but every so often he went to video meetings and other stuff, making sure his men were back in line and making money efficiently. He was the brains of the operation, but he never went in person, and never showed his face or revealed his real voice, just to be safe, so I suppose he was a kind of "L" in his own way. Only a select few of the original gang members were still alive, and they had no idea what he looked like now, and the rest were n00bs, so he was safe from the police and from Near. I knew Mello felt more comfortable when he had underlings to order and smack around.

I heard a key rattle in the lock and checked the time after I tapped the ash off the end of my cigarette. It was about 10:30 now, the time he usually got home after dealing with the Mafia. I could hear the rustle of a plastic bag once the door opened, and I could hear him talking on the phone with someone.

"No, you need to fucking take control," he was griping. "I know thinking is difficult for you, Dmitri, but try it for just a second. If you let them keep beating him in the face, what will you get out of it? How do you think a man with a broken nose, shattered jaw, and no teeth is going to be able to tell you what you need to know—finger-painting with blood? When you torture a hostage, start with the fingers first! …Yes! Then the toes, shins, knees, and keep working your way up! The face last, got it?" He snapped his phone shut and sighed irritably before he exited the hall and walked into the kitchen where I could see him from my supine vantage point. "Idiots," he scoffed.

"Trouble with the kids?" I asked.

He scoffed again. "KIDS is right. Every time I have a conference with them it's like babysitting a fucking kindergarten class. I really have to shape them up after Kira's reign."

I took a drag and then exhaled. "Turned into a bunch of pussies, huh?"

"That, and since about 98% of the previous members were killed, the syndicates are made up of mostly new recruits—and they are intolerably moronic."

"Good thing they got you then," I remarked.

He hadn't even glanced my way yet. I took the time to look at him while he was distracted by his bag of groceries. He slid his large designer sunglasses off and set them on the counter, revealing the scarring on the left side of his face. Even though it was completely healed over now and all the pink had faded, he still always covered it in public. It was kinda strange, in a way. Knowing Mello, you'd think he would wear a blemish like that like a proud battle trophy, but instead, he was unknowingly self-conscious. I almost liked that about him. It seemed so…human.

He still ran his fingers over it every once in a while, but he didn't ever notice it. I did, but then again, I noticed most things about him. Like how he'd left his hair to grow out, in an effort to hide his face even further. It was now almost touching his shoulders, and I liked how it flipped out a little at the ends when it was this length, like it did when we were little. He maintained that he was trying to keep a low profile, seeing as how we were dead and all, but I knew his ulterior motives even better than he did.

My hair had gotten longer too, but for some reason Mello insisted that I stay well groomed, and he would trim my hair and make sure I was clean-shaven. He'd say it was because he didn't want me looking like a dirty hobo when he had to stare at me in the living room every day, but I wondered... It was like he hated the fact that anything about me was different—like I was being disobedient because I was injured and out of commission. He really didn't like not being in control, even down to the length he was used to seeing my hair.

I watched him casually brush a golden lock behind his ear and then start to put food away. "What do you want for dinner?" he asked.

"You," I replied, unable to contain myself.

He paused and exhaled stiffly. "Are we really going to have this argument again?" he grumbled. "I'm beyond tired of it."

"I don't see what the big deal is," I muttered, letting my head flop. "Just a blow wouldn't hurt me… I'm almost healed anyway..."

"Do you want pork or beef?" I opened my mouth but he held up his hand. "And I swear to God if you make a dirty joke out of that I will punch you in your broken arm."

I sputtered my air through my lips, shot down. "Fine…both. I'm starving." Looks like I wasn't getting lucky tonight either.

"You had plenty to eat for lunch."

"That was for lunch—which was like eight hours ago."

"I left you some snack bars."

"I told you I don't like them. They taste like tree bark."

"They're good for you—and you need a constant intake of vitamins after losing that much blood. I don't want to hear it."

Same thing every time. "…I'm still starving."

"Fine, I'll make both. Do you want peppers or tomatoes with your pasta?" He got a skillet, pot and cutting board out.

"Both."

He shook his head and started a pot of water boiling, got some veggies out of the fridge, and then came around the counter, removing his snakeskin jacket on his way to his bedroom. He disappeared inside for a few minutes, and then came back out with his hair tied up and his biker gloves off. He was wearing a leather vest that buckled down the front with a fishnet shirt full of holes beneath it. His skin-suctioned leather pants laced down the sides and his belt was black with studs. His belt buckle was silver and gaudy with a design of a skeleton with wings on it. He'd been wearing the same pair of shoes lately—pointy leather boots with metal crosses on the heels.

Since I'd accidentally broken his old rosary, he'd saved the crucifix but he hadn't restrung it with new beads for some reason. Instead, he just attached it to his wallet chain. He had a different rosary now, one strung with black beads and red crystals with an Egyptian Ankh charm instead of a cross. I think it was symbolic to him or something, but I couldn't ask.

God, was I seriously fucked up for thinking he was sexy as hell? Eh, who cares? I liked to imagine him getting hit on at the supermarket by single dads or college guys, and then tear them a new one and watch them scamper away when they realized he was a dude. He was just so fucking pretty at a glance that I couldn't blame anyone for being distracted by him, but I wished I could be there wherever he went, watching without seeming to, craving his every move.

He went back to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the block, starting to chop up the vegetables and such. There was a painting of a skeletal Virgin Mary with a skeletal angel descending to her on the wall beside the fridge, and below that a mural of a Sacred Heart, extra bloody style. Where did he find all this crap?

I exhaled through my nose and re-slumped, just listening to him working in the kitchen. I tried not to keep thinking like such a selfish bastard. This was usually how our days were: he'd wake and check my bandages, change them if necessary, then make sure I was fed and medicated. Then he would feed himself, read the paper, and have some tea before he checked in with his contacts to see what work he had to get done. He would leave all day to make various criminal dealings, since he always had something to take care of lately, and then on his way back he'd run errands. As soon as he returned he'd feed and medicate me again, then make sure my wounds were clean and freshly wrapped. He really was very attentive of me (he just wasn't very nice about it). I was grateful, sure, but if I ever mentioned it he got all pissy. And I really just wanted to be with him, like, together…more than just for a few hours when he shoved food down my gullet and tended to my injuries.

Once he had things cooking, he left the kitchen and came into the living room. "You aren't even watching television?" he questioned, raising his one remaining eyebrow.

"No point," I muttered.

"What are you moaning about now?"

I sighed. "What's the point of watching TV? It's been three months but all they talk about is 'What happened to Kira?' 'When will Kira be back?' 'Kira's just taking a break.' Blah, blah… And I can't play any video games… I mean, I could probably figure out how to play one-handed, like maybe hop back and forth between the keypads, but it's just not the same… If I can't pwn, what's the point? And all this time playing the games on my cell is starting to get to me. I think I've finally gone off the deep end, Mello. I'm seeing colored geometric blocks everywhere, and Ms. Pac Man is starting to look hot. I'm pretty sure I'm insane."

"And I'm pretty sure you're a whiny bitch," he snapped, and flipped on the TV, flying through channels until he found a random crime drama. "There. Occupy yourself."

"Or YOU could occupy me," I said hopefully.

He tossed the remote at me and it slapped me in the chest before I managed to grab it. He stood over the bed with his hand on his hip and grimaced down at me. "You just aren't going to give up, are you?"

"C'mon, man… I've gone without any action for all this time… Aren't you going crazy too?"

"Yes, but only from listening to you." I was on the last few drags of my cigarette. "And I can't believe you're still going through two packs of those fucking things a day. As if your lungs didn't take enough damage already. Not to mention they're fucking expensive." He swiped it from me and snuffed it out in my full ashtray on the bedside table.

Here we go again. "Hey, if YOU were in my place you'd be even worse, man. You won't let me get outta bed, you're never home, and even when you are you just treat me like a sick dog. Why don't you gimme a break—"

He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over me, slapping his hands down at either side of my head. "Shut up." I stared up at him, at his sharp, dark eyes focused on mine. "Do you really think this is a picnic for me either?"

I blinked. We were barely apart, the tip of his nose nearly touching mine, his lips close enough to torture me every time he breathed. "At least you have function in all your limbs," I breathed, still frowning apprehensively.

"For the record, I told you to stay out of it."

"…I didn't want you to do it alone."

"I know!" he barked, but then he shut his eyes and took a breath. He always did that. When he started to get seriously upset he would stifle himself—something he NEVER used to try to do. Was he trying to spare me? Why? Because I was hurt?

Was it really so impossible for him to feel guilty? Once upon a time, I would say yes. But now…

"Look, I know it hurts," he said, "but the bullet holes should be healed in less than a month. I'm not sure about your arm, but it'll be at least a few more months before you can use it—"

I lurched forward, pressing my lips to his. His eyes snapped back open, glaring, but he didn't pull away. I lifted my good hand and slid it to cup the back of his head, eagerly searching his mouth with my tongue. We'd kissed every once in a while, but never for very long, and not like this. It was almost as if he was afraid I would break. Was he really so guilty? To hell with that. I'd rather break both my legs and my other arm than go without touching him any longer.

I'd waited most of my life to be able to touch him this way, to crush him so close he could never see anyone else again. I'd coveted him like a spoiled brat for as long as I'd known him—and I'd wanted to fuck him ever since the day I knew what that meant. He was always the brightest icon of my waking world. I couldn't tell him, but that was also part of the reason why I left Wammy's all those years ago: I knew if I stayed any longer I wouldn't be able to contain myself. And I was sure that if I let something happen, he would never forgive me. I had to leave, put distance between us, or else I would've lost control around him eventually.

I wasn't sure how much he could guess, but I was almost positive he would never know—or understand—how much he dominated my thoughts, like a hot poison that ate away everything else.

He withdrew after a while, his tongue sliding free, and ran it across his pink lips absently, leaving them wet. Shit, I wanted him.

"Mello," I breathed, almost hoarse, and started to run my fingers over his scars. He simply shook his head. "No, I'd rather break every bone in my body. Don't walk off."

"I have to. Your supper is burning."

"Rather have you," I insisted.

"I've told you, no," he stated, hardening his gaze. "Not yet."

"Well, when?"

"Not yet," he repeated. He twisted free of my grip and stood, walking away. All I could do was stare at his glorious ass in those pants and mope. He returned to what he was doing in the kitchen, and about fifteen minutes later he brought me a full plate of food on a tray. He included my antibiotics, vitamins, and pain medication on a napkin. "I refilled your prescriptions today so make sure you keep taking them on time. And don't skip on your vitamins." He sat at the bar to eat his own food, glancing over a book as he did.

I stared down at my plate, which looked amazing, but I suddenly didn't want it. He wouldn't buy me junk food or candy or any kind of salted snacks period, and always made me perfectly balanced meals. I couldn't drink soda or coffee, just orange juice, water, and milk. I also had to take several kinds of vitamins in addition to my prescriptions, and all I could snack on between him making my meals were these unholy fucking oatmeal fiber bars. If I could, I would pile every single one of them in a bonfire and dance around it in Indian feathers. It was like he was trying to baby me, even though every time I complained about something he cruelly cut me down.

I sighed and shoveled my food in with my one good hand, not pausing until it was all gone. Then I popped the pills with some water. After that I slumped again, lying back to stare at the ceiling.

I really didn't know what to make of things anymore. Not that I ever really have. We'd changed our names, faked our own deaths, escaped Kira, started our lives over, and I had no more idea about him than I did before. Everything he did was so contradictory. Like how he bitched about me smoking but still bought me cigarettes (of course, they were the cheapest ones he could find, not the brand I preferred). Or how he'd been the one to suggest starting our lives over together, but then hardly ever talked to or touched me.

What did he even consider me? Was I really just a sick dog? Or maybe just a project to keep him occupied after abandoning his life's mission? Maybe just an outlet for all the guilt he couldn't stand to contain? Or maybe all three. I guess it didn't really matter, but I didn't have anything else to do but lie around and think. Was he my boyfriend? I almost laughed out loud. He would break my other arm and probably my neck if I ever called him my boyfriend.

I turned my head to watch him eat at his own pace, slipping each morsel into his mouth and chewing slowly, the same way he did with chocolate. I couldn't see what he was reading, but I could only guess it was something morbid and darkly poetic. Sometimes I wished he would just come home, angrily tear off his clothes, and ravage me like there was no tomorrow, like the last time—when we really THOUGHT we might be dying. If he only knew the ways I plotted for him to subdue me, break me down, make me beg. I'd be no more than another of his tortured hostages…starting with the small things first…and then working his way up until I was battered, helpless, and supplicating in his presence.

I liked my illusion of power when he let me top him, when his body gave way underneath me, but I would give anything to hear him demand it again, with that deep, cruel hiss of a voice. He had no idea how he possessed me. I sorta kept it that way, always mouthing off with sarcastic remarks and playing it casual, but that was just automatic for me. Deep down, under every layer of hair, flesh, and blood—I wanted to be forced into submission, struggling for air, beaten and bloody at his hands. I wanted to be on the floor licking his boots, and on my bruised knees making him sneer down at me and snarl selfishly for more. I wanted him to want me in the worst ways possible.

I sighed loudly. Am I really, REALLY that fucked up? Guess so. Not like he wasn't. I knew if things were different—if he wasn't so alienated in his mindset of human intimacy—then he would probably be a much more sick, demanding lover. I could picture him standing over me in an SS Uniform with a whip pretty easily… But whether it was his messed up childhood, or whether it was just his nature, that wasn't him. And if I hadn't been injured so critically, things might've gotten somewhere in the past few months… Maybe we could've been fooling around, getting used to each other, opening up in new ways… But that wasn't the case.

When he was done eating, he picked up all the dishes and washed the kitchen quickly. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked.

"Beer." He poured me some milk and brought the glass from the kitchen. He didn't make it out before he stumbled, splashing milk from the glass and catching himself on the counter. His hand flew to his chest and he bared his teeth. "Mello!" I sat up abruptly, hurting myself a little, but I leaned forward. "Are you—"

He shook his head and stood straight again, taking a breath. "It's nothing," he stated. "I'm fine."

"Your heart?"

"It only happens every few hours. It's already gone."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Don't worry about it, like I said." He cleaned up, poured me more milk, and handed it to me. I chugged it and he put the glass away. After that, he brought a chair over to my bedside and then gathered up the usual materials to change my bandages. "I'll change these and let you get some sleep." I sat up again and pushed the sheet away. He snipped away the tape and then unwound the gauze from my arm, unveiling the circular knots of wounded skin. He lightly smoothed his fingertips down them. "How badly do these hurt?"

"Not bad," I answered. "Kinda like really bad bruises."

"That's good. Your tattoos will be warped once these finally heal."

"Yeah, I know… Nothing I can do about it." I hadn't exactly been sober when I got them, and what they meant to me was easy enough to tell, though he never mentioned it. They'd just been a vain attempt to hold onto the way he made me feel in the years we were apart. Kinda sad when you think about it, but like I said, I wasn't exactly sober.

He cleaned them off before he followed with alcohol and then ointment. "How about your left arm?"

"Not as bad as a couple weeks ago, but it hurts when I move it."

"You had a compound fracture in both major bones. You'll be lucky if you can still do anything useful with that arm."

"I know… As long as I can mash buttons I think I'll live."

"I knew you'd say that." He pulled the sheet further down, exposing my thighs, where the rest of my bullet wounds resided. He lifted me carefully by one knee at a time and unwound the gauze there. After that, he inspected the marks. I only had three or four on each leg, since mostly the bodyguards had been aiming for my torso. Bigger target, and I got the feeling they weren't pro killers, just hired muscle, so trying for a headshot hadn't been too important as long as they emptied their clips. Good for me, I guess. Still, I had deep muscle damage. "How about these?" he asked.

"Not as bad."

"…You're sure?" He placed his hand on my right thigh, the one closest to him, and my whole body flinched when skin met skin. Something seemed to come over him then, in his eyes. They narrowed and my chest got tight seeing it.

"Uh…yeah…"

"So no pain at all?" He rubbed his fingertips in a circle around one of the marks, forcing me to wince in dual reaction. His fingertips continued, circling a higher one, and then higher, grazing beneath the very bottom edge of my boxer shorts.

"Ah…. A little…" I admitted.

"…So when I do this…" He clasped his hand flat to my inner thigh, his palm pressing the highest wound. I felt my breath escape me in a stutter. "…Does it burn? Sting? Throb…?" My mouth fell open and I couldn't find any words. I think I just kinda stammered some weird sounds. Was this really happening? Christ, please don't let me be asleep… "What's that?" His hand slid higher, his fingers scraping inside the leg of my undergarment, only inches away from touching my groin. Shit, it felt like miles!

"Maybe…it burns," I exhaled. I could feel heat start to pool in the area, centering in a terrible, raging need that quickly manifested itself. He didn't seem to notice I was becoming erect, or else he pretended not to.

"That's all?"

"It throbs…some," I nearly gasped.

"Oh?" He stretched his fingers to let the tips of his nails trace down my pelvis, coming so achingly fucking close to touching it—but not quite. "Maybe I should do something about that."

"Yeah, you should," I blurted.

He had his upper body craned over me and one knee on the bed, but he stopped just then. "Did I ask for your opinion?" he demanded lowly.

That sound just made it worse. "No," I said quickly, desperate to keep him in this mood, wherever it came from. "No, I, uh…"

"You should ask nicely," he said, removing his hand from the leg of my boxers. My stomach caved in and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out in protest.

"Please," I breathed.

He chuckled once—that devilish little laugh that could only mean his brain was full of horrible things. My whole body seemed to get smaller—except my dick—and the hair on the back of my neck was crawling down my spine. "That's a little better." He placed—just placed—his hand on my cock, staying outside the fabric. I jerked my head in the pillow. "But I think you can do better than that."

"Uhn… Please, God, Mello…don't stop."

The edge of his mouth twisted up into a wicked grin, and then he rubbed me back and forth, slowly, making me lose my mind. Everything else seemed to get darker and further away except for him. He was godlike, always hovering above me, always requiring worship from those lesser than him.

I was painfully hard in seconds, so he just scooted further onto the bed and hooked one finger in the hem of my underwear. He pulled it down, revealing my erection, and then took his time running a single fingertip down the length. I groaned in torture, which only made him smile wider. After a few tormenting seconds he bent down and ran his tongue over, and I swear the anticipation would kill me any minute. He continued once I let out a staggered moan, using his hand now too.

Just how long had I fantasized about Mello touching me this way? Everything about him sent hot shivers down my spine and made my hair stand on end. His rough, probing grip, his invasive tongue, his demanding, unforgiving voice… God, I was pathetic in his presence. All I ever wanted to do was tease and taunt him until he lashed out, punishing me with his rule, crushing me underneath him. Ever since he'd gotten over the shock of my advances he'd pretty much been on a path of making up for that, and only allowed my dominance when he was tired or in a particularly kind mood. Of course…those occasions weren't often, but I really was fine with that. And with my being an invalid at the moment, I really didn't have any choice.

Still, ever since I'd gotten the idea to try something with him, I hadn't let it go. I buried it for years, cramming it into the furthest, dustiest corner of my head. I'd tried so much to forget it, especially after leaving Wammy's, but when he showed up again out of nowhere asking for my help, all grown up, looking like that…the idea started to surface again, and wouldn't be ignored. I'd had to shove it aside for years, knowing he was focused, lethal, and far more dangerous than he'd ever been. His fuse had shortened substantially, and his reactions had increased in violence. If I wasn't careful, I knew he would shoot me in the face. So I waited…for just the right time…

Still can't believe it worked.

He was gliding his mouth up and down my shaft, rolling his tongue in circles every time he made it to the tip. Christ, what the hell had he been doing—studying? Because he obviously hadn't been practicing. He just couldn't stand to be anything below excellent, no matter what. He teased and licked until I was a feverish heap of tense muscles and euphoric brain cells, and then he pulled away.

"Shit!" I groaned. "Shit, shit…!" He sat back in his chair with a glide of the tip of his tongue over his lips, watching my lower body spasm uncomfortably. He just crossed his legs and leaned his chin on his hand, smiling. "Why…?"

"Just to teach you a lesson," he replied.

"…You aren't seriously gonna leave me here like this, are you…?" I whimpered.

"Maybe I am." He extended his leg to nudge against my swollen member with the toe of his pointy boot. "Maybe that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"You can't," I argued.

"Oh? You're going to order me around?"

"You can't, Mello," I insisted.

"Tell me why."

"Because…I'm an invalid…and you should be nice to me."

"Try again."

"…Because I've been wanting to fuck you every minute since we moved here but you've barely even touched me. We were supposed to start over... If you ditch me now, I think I might die…"

The corner of his mouth tweaked upward. "Only one of your arms is broken, you know," he mentioned. "I think you can take care of the problem before you expire."

"What…? You mean you…?" He just smiled a little more menacingly, still resting his chin on his propped fist, watching me. I was in hell, and he just teased at me with his boot again, making my whole body wince. "Mello…"

He propped his heel on the edge of the bed and waited again. "I like to watch you squirm, it motivates me. Get to it."

I could feel heat rising in my skin all the way up to my eyebrows, but I bit straight into my lip and lowered my good hand between my legs. He smirked, lowering his eyes to watch me touch myself. Damn him, the evil, tyrannical bastard… He knew exactly how to humiliate me, to beat me down without ever laying a hand on me, and God it made me hot. I was so pathetic, and he knew it, and I couldn't stop it—and I enjoyed it, and he enjoyed the fact that I did. I could never hate him, no matter how he treated me. And he knew that too. I manipulated myself as he watched, unable to hold back the shockwaves of pleasure from showing in my face. He was reveling in every minute of it, just taking in the sight until my entire body stiffened tightly, ready to burst, and he shot out his hand and snatched my wrist, stopping me.

"Oh…fuck…" I groaned.

"Not so fast… If you're going to learn a lesson, then this needs to last longer."

"You're an asshole…"

"Yes, but haven't you told me repeatedly that you like it?" He stood, unfastening the buckles down the front of his vest and then removing it. His hand went to his belt buckle next and so many shivers were bolting up and down my spine that my back started aching. He removed his boots and pants, crawling onto the bed after to straddle me, just in his fishnet shirt and rosary. It wasn't difficult to notice he was hard too, but I could hardly stand to look away from his face as he loomed over me, teasing my erection with his.

"It's no fair," I accused, trying to speak through my groans.

"What's no fair?" he questioned, a devious smile still spread on his lips.

"Whenever I tried to tease you or take my time, you got mad and told me to get on with it, but here you are torturing me instead of just fucking me."

"You don't call the shots unless I say, remember? And this isn't for your pleasure—it's to remind you of that." He pulled his hair tie free and I immediately reached up to grip a handful of it.

"I wish you'd leave it up so I can see your face," I managed to say as he spread himself over me.

"That's exactly why I don't."

"I know." I kept a fistful of his hair in my grip as he lowered his head close to mine, close enough for me to smell the lingering chocolate on his breath. He still ate it, but not nearly as much as he used to. He only had one every other week or so, I guess trying to move on from that part of himself. I'd been trying my best to cut down on smoking, but with me lying in bed all day unable to snack or game, it was pretty much impossible.

Mello ran his hands upward from my stomach to my chest, making pressured circles there while he rocked his lower body against mine at the same time. I urged him closer, needing to kiss him, taste him. He drifted as if he might comply, and then suddenly curled his fingers under, scraping me with his black nails and making me grunt open-mouthed, only inches from his crooked grin. I couldn't tell if I was bleeding or not because he reached one hand down and started to stroke both of us together in unison.

"God," I sputtered, and twisted his long hair in my fingers, almost digging against his scalp. It felt amazing, but… "Mello…I don't wanna come this way."

"Now you're complaining about this too?" he demanded, still inches from my lips.

"No, it's just…" I yanked him abruptly to me, hurling him into a kiss that he tolerated before I withdrew, focusing my gaze. "I wanna be inside you."

He blinked, his brow creasing and his eyes narrowing. "You shouldn't strain yourself that much," he argued.

"I'm already strained," I insisted. "I'm strained every time you walk by, every time you look at me. I'm going insane just lying here, I really am. When you said we could start over, I thought…"

He released his hold and pressed both his hands to either side of my shoulders. "You thought what?" he questioned, his brow still slightly furrowed. His hair curtained most of his cheeks and his ears, curling softly against his neck.

"I thought… I dunno, exactly…but I thought maybe you'd stop…keeping me at arm's length. I thought maybe you'd let your guard down, finally…"

He sighed, sitting up and brushing his hair back. "First of all, I just wanted you to heal. Everything else should wait until then, but you just won't shut up. And don't you think I've had my guard down all this time? Here I am, tending to your every need, like a fucking slave, and you don't appreciate any of it. All you do is find more things wrong with it." He was starting to sound angry, but he wasn't yelling, which was good so far.

"I appreciate it," I protested. "I just… After everything that happened, everything we lived through…I'm seeing things in a new way. Now that life has a whole new meaning I'm feeling really greedy. I want you all the time. I want you more than ever. And I have noticed you changing, little by little. I notice everything about you, Mello, no matter what you think. The only thing I've ever really paid attention to all the time was you. But after getting shot to hell by those fucking lunatics and nearly choking on my own blood, I'm even more selfish than before. And you're everything I wanna keep to myself."

He exhaled through his mouth and glared down at me. "So what is it you want, exactly? I don't know what the hell you expect if none of this is good enough."

"I just don't want you to push me away ever again," I said. "We're both dead, so we're all we got. This isn't short-term anymore, this is for good. This is for real."

"I know that," he snapped, shutting his eyes. "I know, and I haven't gotten used to the idea yet, alright? I never anticipated an outcome like this, with an actual…positive outlook on the future. I was ready to die that day…until they reported you'd been gunned down on the news. After that…Kira felt insignificant. I threw everything away, forsook my victory, and ran to find you. I'm just… I'm still disillusioned from it all. I can't separate myself entirely, as much as I try. I planned on being alone, so I need…time to adapt."

"Hey," I whispered, grabbing hold of his arm. "We got time, remember? We got all the time in the world."

He chuckled briefly, shaking his head. "I suppose you're right. We do."

"Let's just…take our time then. We don't have to rush anymore. We actually have the rest of our lives to look forward to. For once…I'm thinking ahead."

He leaned back down. "Took you long enough."

He adjusted his position, grabbing hold of my cock and guiding himself down over it. I clamped my teeth together and moaned through them. Jesus, it felt amazing to be in him again after so long. He bared his teeth with a hiss of pain and then began to sway his hips over mine, pumping us together and apart, boiling my blood. I clasped my hand against his thigh and he grabbed onto my shoulders, thrusting steadily, concentrating. I tried to maintain my composure, but the more he grinded me, the more I spiraled out of control.

I sat up swiftly, throwing my arm around him, grabbing his ass in one hand and moving him over me. "Matt," he barked, "lay back down."

"Don't need to." I buried my mouth in his neck, licking and sucking his marred flesh, making a wet trail down to the scars on his collarbone. "Need this. Best medicine."

"Idiot," he muttered, but he went along with it, our motions blending together, his nails hooking in my hair and my skin, his voice deepening, stuttering with his heavy breath. I tugged at his fishnet shirt, lifting it, and he peeled it off. I was free to explore his chest with my tongue, making him shudder and gasp. I loved those sounds just as much as I loved his cruelly mocking tone.

"God, you've only made it worse by being so fucking sexy lately," I said into his skin.

"Stupid," he stated.

"You still can't take a compliment…"

We came at about the same time, unclenching our muscles and sagging against each other. I leaned too heavily on my left arm and a blinding pain shot through it, making me flinch visibly. "That's why this sort of thing is a bad idea until you're recovered," he snapped, taking himself off my lap.

"I'm fine," I grumbled. "My own fault."

He opened his mouth to say something but then doubled over, clapping his fist to the left side of his chest. "Shit," he hissed.

"You okay? I thought it only hit every few hours." I put my arm around him.

"Apparently, it also happens when I'm under intense mental or physical stress."

I shouldn't have, but before I realized I was saying, "Heh, INTENSE physical stress, huh?"

He shoved my arm away with a scoff. "Jackass." He straightened and smoothed his air. "Well, this should shut you up for a while."

I lunged my arm back around him and pushed our lips together. "Maybe for a while, but it won't last." He snarled at me for a moment and then sighed irritably and met my eyes. Suddenly he threw me down on my back, pulled my underwear back over me, and then draped the sheet across my body. His lips were on mine and then gone so fast I couldn't reciprocate.

"Get some sleep," he ordered, and collected his clothing. "I'm taking a shower."

"…So I'm just supposed to wallow here in my own filth?"

"You wanted to fuck, now deal with the consequences. I might sponge you off when I get out, if I feel like it." He walked off.

"What happened to babying me?" I called, but I heard his door slam.

I sighed steeply and sank into the mattress, smiling to myself. Things would be rocky and awkward for a while… We still had a lot of adjusting to do in our new lots in life. We weren't balanced on a razor's edge, in danger of dying any minute, barreling towards a singular objective with no time to spare. Now, we actually had the rest of our lives to live. We had time to get used to what we'd become, and what we were still becoming. We had time, finally, to figure things out, and make something of what we had. We could live like semi-normal human beings…for the first time.


End file.
